


All's Fair in Love and Sports

by multifandomcircusfreak



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sports, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Exy au, Gen, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 67,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6287131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifandomcircusfreak/pseuds/multifandomcircusfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam Parrish was going to his dream school. He had a full scholarship, he was getting away from Henrietta, he was going to play Exy - the sport he'd been in love with for years, and he wasn't going to let anybody stand in his way. He'd say it was a dream come true, if it didn't include asshole roommates and running laps at four am... But it was close enough.</p><p>Exy au, courtesy of All For The Game</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Just to warn everyone, I am not American and I have no clue how universities work. Bear with me here.

When Adam filled out all of his scholarship application forms, he had no clue what he was getting himself into. Of twelve schools, he was sure to get into at least one of them. His grades were top notch, his references weren’t fancy but they all showed his “remarkable character”, and he’d checked and rechecked all of his submissions to make sure they were perfect.

He got into eleven.

Looking back on it, Adam didn’t regret the one he’d chosen, and he could definitely see the appeal he’d been faced with the day he’d gotten the letters back. Of the eleven, seven of them were prepared to give him full scholarship. Of those schools, four had good business programs. Of the four, two of them offered on-campus co-ops.

And one of them had Exy.

Adam had hardly believed it when he saw it while filling out the applications. Exy had been growing in popularity over the past ten years, and multiple schools around the country offered student Exy teams, but not many. Off the top of his head, Adam was pretty sure he’d read somewhere that in West Virginia, there were only three universities that had Exy teams, and here he was, presented with the opportunity to attend one of them.

It was like a dream come true. He didn’t believe in dreams come true, but he had a piece of paper in his hand that was the closest he would ever come to one, and it was great.

Adam had loved Exy since he was eight years old, when he’d seen some boys playing it in a field, and had become instantly infatuated with it. He’d _begged_ his mother to sign him up for the community team. It was free, he’d informed her. Dad would get less angry if Adam wasn’t there as much to annoy him, he’d told her. Sports were masculine, he’d said. Maybe a small part of his mother had felt pity, or even love, for him that day, because she’d said yes. 

Those six years he’d played it had been the best of his life. Every Wednesday and Friday, he didn’t come home after school. He went to the little field where Henrietta’s junior Exy league played. They didn’t have proper equipment - only racquets and helmets - and the referees weren’t always fair, but Adam didn’t care. He’d loved it. It was a safe spot away from the violence of home. On the court, if someone slammed into him, someone came to help him. They _cared_. And he was _good_ too. He was fast and he had good aim and he thought quickly.

When his father had told him to quit and get a job, a part of Adam had broken. He’d done it of course, he didn’t have a choice… but sometimes when it was late and he was exhausted, he would turn on the little television his father kept around and watch the games. Sometimes, he would grab one of the school’s racquets and bounce a ball off of a brick wall, just to make sure he still could.

 _Don’t get ahead of yourself, Adam,_ he told himself. _Just because you’re going to a school that has Exy doesn’t mean you’re on the team. That takes files, and tapes, and recruiters…_

“I want to send a tape in,” he told the Exy coordinator at the community centre.

The man looked up at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was. “Are you on a team?” he asked. “Do you play games?”

“No,” Adam admitted. “But I can do drills. Whatever it takes.”

The man sighed. “Okay, kiddo. Come with me.”

Two weeks later, the library computer informed him that he had an e-mail. It was from one Mr. Gray, Head of Monmouth University’s Exy Committee, asking him for a meeting.

A week and pile of paperwork later, it was official.

Adam Parrish was getting out of Henrietta.

Adam Parrish was going to Monmouth University.

Adam Parrish was going to be one of the Cabeswater Ravens.


	2. Chapter One

Adam’s leg hadn’t stopped bouncing for two days. He hadn’t stopped _movin_ g for a whole week. Now, he was on a bus to his new university, with all his money spent on the ticket, and way too much freedom for his thoughts. He tapped his toe.

He remembered his parents’ faces when he told them he had gotten into university. His mother’s expression had been wary, trying to decide if he was serious. His father’s had been livid. Adam had told him he was applying, but his father had only scoffed and told him that if he could find a college that was willing to take trailer-trash on full scholarship, he could go. Adam had then realized he had been joking, fully convinced that it wouldn’t happen. It wasn’t funny anymore.

He knew that the reaction wasn’t going to be as good as he’d hoped. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. A whoop of joy was certainly out of the question.

Yelling seemed more appropriate, and that was what he got.

“You’re throwing away a job over some flabby EDUCATION?!”

Adam knew that the apprenticeship he’d been offered was the logical choice. It was a job. It was a promise of employment for a year, and implied more jobs after that. A solid money-maker. But to him, it was a prison. If he chose the apprenticeship, he would stay in Henrietta for a year, and then when he was offered a job, he knew he would stay longer. He’d never get out.

He’d told his father that university graduates usually get better employment later on in life.

“Later on in life?! You’re gonna starve by then, boy! Tell me, moneybags, how are you gonna pay for this?”

He told his father it was a full scholarship. He only had to pay for food and transportation. Adam’s anxiety told him there were many more things he would have to pay for, but he didn’t mention this.

“And what about us? You’re going to leave your poor old parents to fend for themselves?!”

He told his father that he could get a job on campus during the school year. He could come home and take on bigger jobs during the summer. He would send money home. Anything he didn’t need to survive.

Anything to get his father to agree.

His father’s voice had gotten quieter after that. It was scarier, though. It was lower in volume, but it was the volume that Adam could handle, it was the volume that Adam was used to. This new tone of voice was quieter, but much more intense. It buzzed with electricity, and it made the hairs all over Adam’s body stand up on end.

“You send that money home, boy,” he said, inches away from his face. “Or you’re outta there.”

After that, his father had made sure to show Adam the consequences he would be faced with if any of this went wrong. Now, Adam touched his cheek and tried not to wince at the sting. It had almost faded, but there was still a bit of a mark and it hurt.

He was pretty sure that if he had to spend any more time on the bus, his head would explode from the mix of emotions he was feeling. Nervousness. Fear. Regret. Relief. Exhilaration.

Luckily for him, within ten minutes they arrived at Monmouth University. Unluckily for him, there was no turning back now.

 

  
Adam was good with a map, but he had no clue what he was doing. Looking around was just a courtyard with a bunch of students milling around and different buildings with names that gave him no clue towards their purpose. He studied the map he’d gotten from a perky spirit committee member again. One of the buildings clearly said “sports office”. He guessed that was where he should go…

It took him a solid twenty minutes to maneuver around campus, and he was pretty sure he’d gone in a complete circle twice, but he eventually managed to find the place he was looking for.

He took a deep breath and entered.

A woman was on the phone behind a desk. She paused her sentence and looked up at him.

“Hi,” he greeted, trying to hide his accent. “I’m… looking for the sports office?”

She smiled. “This is student services, honey. You can either go down that hallway and take a left,” she pointed to one of the doors in the room, “or go through the side door from outside.”

He flushed and apologized, heading towards the door she gestured to.

Unluckily for Adam, there were five doors on the left of the hallway. He was about to check all of them, when someone crashed into him.

He braced himself on the person’s arms, steadying them a moment before they both tumbled onto the floor. He pulled back and saw the face of who had just run into him. It was a boy, about his age, breathing heavily.

“Sorry, dude!” the guy apologized breathlessly.

“It’s okay.” Adam let go of him.

“I’m running a bit late,” he hurried on, brandishing a flyer. “I just found out I have to go pick up one… Adam Parrish. I gotta go-”

“Wait!” Adam stopped him. “I’m Adam Parrish.”

The boy’s face lit up into a smile. “Oh thank god. Sorry, man, I was supposed to wait for you at the bus station and show you around, but the flyer said two o’clock and I thought it said three but it turns out that was a cookie crumb on the paper and-”

“Really, it’s fine.”

The boy stuck out his hand. “I’m Tad. Tad Carruthers, fellow Raven. I’m guessing you’re the new offensive dealer?”

Adam shook his hand hesitantly. “Yeah, I am. Um, where do I put my stuff?” He unslung his single duffel bag from his shoulder and held it up for Tad to see.

“Oh, we’ll pass by the bus now. There’s usually a heap of stuff from the baggage compartment around now. It takes them forever to unload it. You know, I almost tripped on a suitcase last year? Yeah, I almost sued. I could have broken my arm! And -” he paused, apparently noticing all of a sudden that he was rambling. “Anyway, we’ll go by there so you can get the rest of your stuff.”

Adam frowned. “This is all of my stuff.”

Tad looked thoroughly shocked, which frustrated Adam. “That’s _all_ of it?! When I drove up last week, my bags barely fit in my car!”

Well, that was good for him. Not everyone could even afford to go to university, much less have mountains of boxes and bags of stuff. _Stuff_ was expensive. Adam could get by on what he had. He had clothes, a toothbrush and toothpaste, some pencils and erasers. He hated that already, he was being looked down upon for not having the piles of useless, materialistic _stuff_.

Sensing Adam’s unhappiness, Tad tried to save himself. “I mean, that’s great for you! Being a light packer!” He punched Adam’s arm jovially, which only made his frown deepen and his teammate’s stumbling increase. “I wish I could be like that! I- You know what? Let’s get on with that tour!”

Tad walked forward and motioned for Adam to follow.

“Okay, so first thing’s first, we just came from the sport’s office. You’re probably not going to have to spend any time there unless you need to talk to coach.”

They walked out of the building, and traveled around campus, with Tad pointing out anything he deemed to be of importance.

“Those are the lecture halls,” he said as they passed a cluster of brown brick buildings.“I don’t know your schedule, so I’ll leave you to figure out yourself where your classes are.”

They moved on, the commentary being mostly useless until they came up to one of the tallest buildings Adam had seen on campus so far.

“That’s the athlete’s dorms. Exy team’s on the third floor. Most sports teams get _two_ floors, but we’re apparently too _small_ so we only have one. We all double up on rooms.” He glanced at Adam sympathetically, which made him feel like Tad knew something he didn’t. “Anyway, we have two bathrooms between us all, a kitchen, a few treadmills, and a lounge.”

They walked around the side of it, until they came to the next point of interest.

“Here’s Cabeswater Arena. Don’t ask me who named it that, because I have no fucking clue. I’d show you the inside, but I don’t have a key. Only Coach and Gansey do.”

Gansey. Adam had read up on Richard Gansey the third. He’d read up on all of the members of the team, actually. Mostly, it had all been statistics and press releases. Nothing that really told him what his new teammates were _like_.

“He’s the captain, isn’t he? He plays offensive dealer too?”

Tad nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, he’s the captain. And yeah, he’s offensive dealer, but he doesn’t really play… much…”

Adam raised an eyebrow.

Tad continued. “He got into a bit of a scruff-up last year. He - You heard of the Hornets?” Adam nodded. They were the team that had been neck-and-neck with the Ravens for years. “Yeah, well, we were winning a game and if they lost they wouldn’t make it to semifinals. A couple of them picked a fight with Gansey near the end, and… it got bad.”

“How bad?”

“They ganged up on him. He had to go to the hospital - broken ribs, bruises everywhere, cracked collarbone-”

“Don’t we have body armor?!”

Tad sighed. “It only does so much. Not when someone’s _trying_ to hurt you. And Gansey was about to go off court, he’d taken off his helmet. Anyway, he was pretty messed up after that. We were eliminated a few games later.”

“What happened to the other guys?!” Adam asked in outrage. It wasn’t fair. They couldn’t just do something like that and get away with it. “Did they get in trouble?”

“Oh, they got in trouble all right. Everyone in the brawl got suspended. The whole team got disqualified for the season. And that’s just the official side of it. Gansey’s girlfriend flipped her shit, she wanted them all expelled. His best friend didn’t leave the hospital for days, and I’m still convinced he was the one who egged all their cars.”

Adam didn’t have any words. “Wow.”

“Wow,” Tad repeated. “Anyway, Gansey’s coming back this season, but Coach is benching him for most of the games. That’s where you come in.”

There was silence for a few moments.

Tad apparently couldn’t live in silence, because he started talking again, despite the awkwardness. “Don’t worry about Gansey, he’s fine. Mostly.”

Adam looked at him, wondering what exactly he was getting himself into.

The awkward silence came back into play, and the two boys stared at each other for a while, trying to gauge each other’s reactions. As the time without words went on, Tad visibly grew more restless, fidgeting.

Finally, Tad broke the silence by clasping his hands together. “Let’s go to Fox Way, shall we?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He just started walking.

Adam followed him around the arena, past the dorms again. They continued across a lawn, until they were so close to the property line Adam was almost sure that they were going to leave campus. But Tad just switched directions and began leading him on a path towards the woods that surrounded the back end of the campus.

As they got closer, Adam saw that on the lawn, right in front of where the trees started, was a house.

It wasn’t very big, but it was tall, and there was ivy running all over the bricks. It was definitely old, if the amount of vines and its overall look of age were any indication. The bricks were a gray colour and quite a few of them were chipped. The black roof had some tiles that had gone askew. Running along the perimeter of the walls was a trench of dirt, holding various plants. Adam only recognized the tomatoes.

The biggest identifying trait the house possessed was the number 300 in iron letters over the door.

“I thought Fox Way was a street,” Adam said.

“It was,” Tad said. “Ish? I’m pretty sure there used to be a few other houses around here, but they cleared them when the university was built. This one’s still here though.”

“Who lives there?”

“The physiotherapists. We call them the Fox Way Ladies. Well, we used to call them the Foxy Ladies but then Blue threatened to sever my-”

“Thumb from the rest of your body?” a new voice said from behind them.

The two boys turned around to see the shortest woman Adam had ever encountered standing a few feet away from him. She was just shy of five feet tall, with short black hair pulled away from her face with an army of brightly coloured hair clips. She stared up at them with a daring smile.

“Blue!” Tad squawked.

“Making me sound bad already, Tad?” she asked in wry amusement.

“No, of course not! When have I ever made you sound bad?” Adam could tell from the nervous tone of his voice that he had definitely done that exact thing.

Blue crossed her arms, looking cross and somewhat frightening. It gave him the feeling that this was what it would be like if he made enemies with a garden gnome.

“Okay, so it _wasn’t_ you who told everyone at my bake sale that if they didn’t buy anything I would _eat their unborn children?”_ She said the last part slowly, drawing out the accusation.

“I was joking-”

“And it wasn’t you who told that guy at Nino’s that I’m a witch?”

“Definitely no-”

“And I’m _certain_ it wasn’t you who told that group of new kids that I practice medieval torture methods.”

“That was-”

“Tad,” she warned. “I suggest you stop talking or I swear I’ll make you run laps.”

He smiled brightly, and wagged a finger at her. “You know, now that you’re on the team, you don’t actually have the _authority_ to-”

“Tad,” she warned again, her eyes hardening into a glare. Adam could tell that he didn’t want to get on her bad side.

So could Tad apparently, because he quickly shut his mouth. “Well, Blue, I’m sure you can take it from here. I’m just gonna go… now…” He gestured vaguely in the direction behind him and sprinted away, fast enough that it was easy to picture imaginary dogs at his heels.

Blue shook her head at him and then turned to Adam, her expression immediately becoming more friendly-human-like and less angry-gnome-like.

“I’m sorry about that,” she apologized with a jerk of her head in the direction of the other boy. “Tad’s alright most of the time, but he can be… a handful.”

Adam smiled, remembering their earlier, aggravating conversation. “I got that.”

She grinned and rubbed her hands together enthusiastically. “So....” she drawled. “You’re our new offensive dealer! Adam Parrish, right?”

“That’s me.”

She stuck out her hand, which he shook. “I’m Blue Sargent. We’re in the same year.”

Adam frowned. “But then how do you know…”

“Tad?” she sighed. “The physiotherapists here are my family. I helped out last year as a fitness instructor, yelling at the boys to do laps and all that good stuff. This year I’m on the team, though. I’m a backliner.”

“At least I’m not the only new player. Even if you know everyone.”

Blue smiled and patted his arm amiably. “Stick with me, Adam. I’ll make them lay off you for a little while.” She paused, before nodding to her house. “Why don’t you come inside? I’ll introduce you to my family.”

Adam followed her towards the door and realized that this was the first time anybody had actually invited him into their home. It was a strange thing to think about, because the action seemed so mundane and small, but it was new territory. He’d never been to a birthday party, he’d never had any school projects that he hadn’t opted to do himself, and he’d never had friends.

Was Blue going to be his friend? Was that what was happening? Adam getting a friend? The thought thrilled him as the crossed the threshold.

The inside of the house smelled like herbs, and it felt quiet for about three seconds before all the sources of noise registered in Adam’s ears. Somewhere, he heard the dim chatter of a television playing. In another direction he heard a blender. Coming from above him someone was blaring pop music. And then there were the voices.

“Persephone!” a woman yelled. “Did you take my scented oils? I have a massage appointment today!”

“I do believe they are where you left them,” said a quieter voice from the kitchen.

“Oh, and where do you suppose that would be?”

“They’re in the medicine cabinet, Calla!” a third voice said from a room off to the left. “Stop fussing!”

Beside him, Blue sighed “Home, sweet home.”

The voice from the kitchen rang out again. “I think Blue’s home.”

The owner of the voice stepped into the hallway. She was thin, and had a large mane of pale hair growing from her head. Her face was a little creepy, with eyes a few shades too dark and an expression too calm and pensive. She looked like she could see straight through him, and Adam didn’t like that one bit.

“This one’s new,” she observed.

“His name’s Adam,” Blue introduced, “and he’s our new offensive dealer. He’s going to be subbing in for Gansey.”

At the mention of Richard Gansey, the woman nodded slowly. “Gansey, Gansey, Gansey. How _is_ the young man doing?”

Blue smiled tightly. “He’s… on the mend.” She turned to him. “Adam, this is Persephone. She’s one of the team’s physiotherapists and the shrink.”

“I’m getting my Phd in psychology,” Persephone added. Then, she looked him up and down. “Do you eat?”

Adam’s brow furrowed. He knew she was just being friendly, but he disliked her judgement. He took pride in the fact that he ate, that he could afford to eat, and eat enough to keep him healthy. He was skinny, yes. But that came from countless hours in a mechanic's shop, working off calories.

“I eat,” he clipped.

“Persephone!” Blue scolded. “He has a low body fat percentage. So what? He’s an athlete. It’s _muscle_.”

Adam expected her to apologize, to explain her good intentions and compliment him. Instead she looked at him for long while and said mournfully, “They’re going to snap you like a twig,” and then, “I’ll make pie.”

She walked back into the kitchen. Blue facepalmed. “I’m sorry about her. She calls ‘em like she sees ‘em. It’s a Fox Way thing.”

“...I’m starting to get that.”

“My mom’s a bit better. Well, she’s more like me, so if that’s a thing you’re okay with then you two’ll be fine.”

He laughed. “You’re not so bad.”

“Then you’ll survive. Mom! Come meet Adam!”

The invitation had been for Blue’s mother, but four faces appeared from different entrances, staring at him. They all walked out from their places and arranged themselves in the front hallway. The one closest to him looked the most like Blue, so Adam assumed she was her mom. He couldn’t tell if the similarities came from actual genetic make-up, or if it was her expression and stance - the same unmovable object.  
  
“It’s lovely to meet you, Adam,” the woman greeted. “I’m Maura, the team nurse.”

They shook hands.

“I’m the new offensive dealer.”

“I’ve heard.”

Blue leaned close to him. “Gansey hasn’t shut up about you yet,” she whispered. “He’s really excited to meet you.”

“Everybody’s heard,” a dark skinned woman said drily. “Do you know how many times that team has gossiped about you? You better be as good as they hope you are.”

“That’s Calla,” Blue added quietly.

“He got onto the team, didn’t he?” said an older woman in the back.

“That’s Jimmi.”

“Oh, I’m sure that doesn’t mean much,” said a tall girl closer to Adam’s age. “I would have brought him on for his pretty face.”

“And… that’s Orla.”

Louder, Blue said, “Okay, okay. That’s enough for now. He’s been here for less than three hours and I _refuse_ to have him scared away already.”

“As opposed to scared away later?” Orla asked.

“Oh, go paint your nails or something,” Blue retorted. Orla huffed and walked away. Blue looked to Adam. “We should get going. The team wants to meet you, and if we wait until after Persephone’s done her pie, we’ll be stuck here forever.”

She tugged on his arm, pulling him back towards the door.

“When will you be home, Blue?” Maura called out as they were leaving.

“Around ten! I’ll call if I’m going to be late!”

And then they were out of 300 Fox Way and heading down the path.

Adam sucked in a breath and tried to get rid of the feeling of ‘what the…’ that came from that short interaction with Blue’s family. Multiple names and faces and opinions about him swirled around in his head. Did they like him? Did they pity him? Did they think he wasn’t good enough? He wasn’t sure.

“Your family is…”

“Big? Loud? Opinionated? The answer is d, all of the above. They like you, though.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Really? Is that what that was?”

Blue shrugged. “They’re like that with everybody at first. They’ll calm down when they get to know you better, and I’m sure they’ll like you in their own way.”

“Are there people they don’t like?”

“Yes,” she answered. “But they like my friends. I have good taste in friends.”

She looked at him when she said that, and Adam couldn’t help but grin.

“So, I’m your friend now?” he asked.

“Of course you are!” She punched his arm lightly. “Honestly, I need someone to hang out with who’s not a raven boy.”

“A what?”

“A raven boy. You know, boys from Aglionby. I can _not_ tell you how glad I was when I found out you weren’t from there.”

He knew what she meant. He knew what Aglionby was. It was that private all-boys school in Henrietta that he had to bike past every day to get to school. All day long, the area around it teemed with rich douchebags, who drove fancy cars bought by their parents and who had no clue what hardship was. Adam was as jealous as he was disdainful of them.

But what did Aglionby Academy have to do with anything?

He asked Blue this and she just stared at him. “Oh, you don’t know?”

He shook his head.

“Well,” she explained, “Aglionby has this top-notch Exy team - Gansey’s dad helped fund it. Anyway, they’re super competitive and they dish out players by the dozen. Most of them come straight here for university like some sort of fast-track acceptance.”

He stared at her.

She continued. “Monmouth’s Exy team has been filled with raven boys for the past ten years. They say it’s because of Gansey. He got all crazy about Exy when he was a kid and then suddenly his dad was funding the team on his future high school _and_ starting one up here. I mean, I love the guy and all, but _man_ , he can be spoiled when he wants to be.”

Adam looked blankly on ahead. Blue kept talking. “Don’t you know what this _means_?” she asked, grinning at him.

“That I’m surrounded by rich douchebags once again?”

“No. Well, _yeah_ , but no. It means that you are crazy good! Hardly anyone in the past ten years has made it onto the team without coming from Aglionby!”

“You did.”

“Yeah, but they already knew me. They’ve seen me play in person, and to be honest, Coach is a little sweet on my mom.”

“Don’t say that. I’m sure you made it on out of talent.”

Blue shrugged. “Like I said, I call ‘em like I see ‘em. I had an advantage. You didn’t.”

Adam scoffed. He _knew_ he had no advantage. Turning to Blue he said in a low tone, “Blue, I came here to get _away_ from Henrietta and all the rich douchebags who looked down on me. I’m on scholarship because I _have_ to be. They’re gonna eat me alive.”

She frowned, but it didn’t look like pity. It was empathy. “I am, too. I know how much it sucks, but Monmouth has a great physiology course and I love Exy, so it’s not like I’m just playing it for the scholarship. I deserve to be here, and you do too.”

He turned away. Adam had never been able to take compliments, even when he got them so rarely.

“Adam, look at me,” Blue instructed. “I know you got accepted with an academic scholarship before you switched over. That takes work. I also watched your tape, so I _know_ how good you are. You deserve to be here as much as, if not more than, any of those raven boys.”

“They’re going to treat me like dirt.”

“If they’re going to do that, they’re gonna have to get through me. I’m not protecting you like some baby, so don’t give me that wounded bear look. I told you, we’re sticking together. I meant what I said when I said I’m glad you’re on this team. The boys… they’re ignorant. I’ll tell you that now. But they’re not bad people. Sometimes you’re going to want to stab them in the face with a fork, but deep down they mean well.”

He remembered his conversation with Tad, the way he’d been stumbling over his attempt not to offend Adam about not having many things. It hadn’t made him any less annoying… but he’d cared.

“Okay,” he surrendered.

“Good. They all try their best to be nice - except for Ronan, but there’s nothing you can do about that.”

Ronan. He’d heard about Ronan during his reading of the stats.

He was one of the Lynch brothers, part of a set, destined to go Pro. Most of the stuff Adam had found on him wasn’t about _him_ necessarily, but about his family. Their dad was Niall Lynch, the famous Exy coach, and he’d raised his sons to be stars. On the internet were countless debates about whether or not the brothers were psychologically stable due to their upbringing. He’d read that it consisted of school and Exy - nothing else. They practiced at the arena they had at home, they went to school, and they were checked out of school for days at a time to practice on the pro courts where their father worked. Apparently the three brothers hadn’t been out of a kilometer’s radius from each other their entire lives.

He’d also read up on Niall Lynch’s gruesome death, which definitely didn’t help his opinion of the Lynches’ sanity.

“How bad is he?”

Blue grimaced. “He’s… a character. I’ve hung out with him for almost a year and I’m still not sure if we’re friends. He kind of comes with Gansey, though. It’s a package deal.”

“But I thought Gansey was nice? Why do they hang out?”

“Gansey is nice,” she explained. “He can be condescending and ignorant, but he honestly doesn’t try to be. You get used to him, and most of the time you can kind of tune out the rich-kid in him. As for him and Ronan… I wouldn’t know, but apparently Ronan used to be different in high school - before his dad died. That’s when he and Gansey met, and they stuck.”

“So, Ronan’s the best friend, then,” Adam concluded.

“Pardon?” Blue asked, turning to face him.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “Tad was telling me earlier, about how Gansey got hurt.” He noticed the way she flinched when he mentioned the injury. “He said that his best friend egged all Hornet’s cars. That was Ronan.”

Blue’s expression was still pained, but she smirked a bit. “Technically, there’s no proof it was him. The video cameras shorted out. There were no prints.”

“It was him, though, wasn’t it?”

She shrugged, but the gleam in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Blue stopped walking, and before Adam could ask her why, he realized they were already at the dorms. Blue marched up the steps and led him up the three flights of stairs it took to get to the Exy team’s quarters.

When they exited the landing, Adam found they were standing in a long hallway. On the right, there were four doors. On the left there were three, more spread out. At the very end, there was a door as well. Blue pointed to each of the doors individually.

“That one’s a bathroom. That one goes into the lounge, which leads to the kitchen and the small gym. That one’s another bathroom. And the one at the end leads to more stairs.”

She jerked her head towards the first door on the right. “Come on, I want you to meet my friends.”

She pushed the door open and walked inside, gesturing for Adam to follow. He did. Inside the room were two beds, each with a person on it. On the first bed was a guy wearing what was probably the worst, yet most expensive outfit Adam had ever seen. It consisted of a bright orange polo shirt, khaki shorts, and a pair of brown boat shoes.

On the other bed was a boy with definitely less awful taste in clothing. He wore a beanie that covered most of his pale blond hair, and a black t-shirt displaying the logo for a band Adam had never heard of. He was engrossed in whatever he was looking at on his laptop.

The other boy wasn’t so occupied with the book he held and immediately looked up when the two of them entered the room. A bright grin quickly appeared on his face and he jumped out of his bed and almost sprinted up to them in his enthusiasm.

“You must be Adam Parrish!” he beamed.

Adam nodded.

“I’m Richard Gansey,” he thrust out his hand and shook Adam’s energetically. “Call me Gansey. I’m the captain of the Ravens… though I’m sure you already knew that. Honestly, I am just so excited to have you on the team. A new face! And an offensive dealer at that!”

“Gansey…” Blue warned. She pulled him away from Adam and slung an arm around his waist. “I already gave my family the speech about _not scaring him away._ ”

He looked down at her penitently. “Oh, yes, of course. My apologies, Adam. I know I can be quite excessive.”

Adam stared at the two of them. He looked at Gansey, and then at the arm around him, and then at Blue.

“ _You’re_ the girlfriend!” he blurted out.

Gansey turned to him, brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

Adam flushed. “Tad told me you had a girlfriend. I just figured out it’s Blue.”

“Oh, alright,” Gansey smiled. “You confused me for a moment.”

Blue smirked at Gansey. “Apparently Tad has been introducing all of us in relation to you.”

“Has he now?”

“Yup. We might as well make them code names now. You’re the Gansey. Ronan’s the best friend. I’m the girlfriend. Noah’s the ghost.”

The boy on the bed piped in, “Blue, I put my cold feet on you _one time_. Let it go.”

“Feet that cold can only belong to a dead person.”

He pouted at her, and then waved at Adam. “I’m Noah Czerny, defensive dealer and definitely the cutest person on campus.”

Blue rolled her eyes. “Maybe in a puppy way. And in that case, you’re beat out by Matthew.”

The pout intensified. “See, this is the kind of judgement I go through every day. You guys are so mean to me.”

“We love you, Noah,” Gansey said to him apologetically.

“Love you, too,” he murmured, and then put on his headphones.

Gansey shook his head and turned back to Adam. “Do you have your schedule?” he asked.

Adam nodded. “I got it in the mail.”

“Good. Coach will be telling us our practice schedule on Monday once everyone’s back from their holidays. If you have any overlaps or concerns, just let me know.”

“Sounds good.”

Gansey smiled, and then pointed at the bag on his shoulder. Adam followed his line of sight, surprised to realize that he had forgotten completely about the duffel bag he held. “Is that everything you need?” he asked.

Adam nodded. “Yeah, it’s everything. I… pack light. Where should I put my stuff?”

“Your room’s next door.”

Blue immediately looked up at Gansey. “You can’t be serious,” she scolded. “ _Him?”_

Adam frowned at her concern. Was there something wrong with the room? Was there something _good_ about the room that she felt he didn’t deserve?

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

Gansey tried to smile, but it was tight and uncertain. Blue’s look of disapproval didn’t help Adam’s confidence either. “No, no,” he assured, “everything’s fine.”

“Then…” Adam gestured behind him. “I guess I’ll set up.”

“What a wonderful idea!” Gansey exclaimed.

“Good luck!” Blue called to him as he left.

As Adam walked next door, he could almost hear the conversation that followed in Gansey’s room.

“Of all people…”

“... needs to know… can’t always get what he wants…”

“... death trap.”

Maybe it was a prank. Maybe there were strange sounds in the room at night, or a leaky ceiling, or bad heating. Maybe it was some sort of initiation for the new guy to get the worst room. Adam checked one the beds, which someone had already put sheets on, for spiders. There were none. He checked the closet. Nothing was there. He looked at the other bed. It too had sheets, but nothing else on it. No spiders either.

Maybe he was just paranoid.

Adam unslung his bag from his shoulder and rubbed at the knot carrying it around had left. Slowly, he began to unpack, putting his writing utensils on the desk on the right side of the room, closest to Gansey’s. He started to put his clothes in the dresser on the same side.

Everything was going well, and he’d almost finished when he heard it. A voice coming from behind him.

“What are _you_ doing in here?”

Standing in the doorway was none other than Ronan Lynch.

Adam opened his mouth to speak, but Ronan interrupted. “No, don’t answer that. Tell me, which one of them was it? Declan or Gansey?”

He tried again to say something, but he was cut off. “No, don’t answer that either. It doesn’t matter which one put you up to it, just tell them that for the millionth time, _I don’t have drugs in here_.”

Adam didn’t bother trying to say anything this time. He didn’t have any words.

“ _What?”_ Ronan gritted out. “You have your little report. Now, get out of my room.”

Adam gained courage from his anger at this dismissal. “No,” he told him matter-of-factly.

The other boy only leaned back a little, a sneer growing on his face from his obvious opinion that Adam was an idiot. And a confrontational one, too.

“I said no,” Adam repeated. “This is my room too.”

Ronan’s mouth fell open in shock, and his eyes burned with anger. “What?!” he spat out, stepping forward towards Adam, who braced himself momentarily before Ronan apparently changed his mind about where his problems lied. The boy turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.

“Gansey!” His voice was still audible.

He heard the faint murmurings of someone speaking the next door over. Then Ronan’s voice was back. “You can’t do that! It’s my-”

“Yeah, but-”

“I am _not_ sharing with this asswad!” Adam bristled at the insult, but continued listening.

“You know, what? Fine! But if he snores and I strangle him in his sleep, it’s on you!”

Ronan stormed back into the room and slammed the door behind him. He stopped when he saw Adam, then shook his head and continued over to his bed, deeming him worthless with nothing but a dismissive sneer. He plopped a black backpack onto his bed and furiously began to take out multiple objects and place them around the room. A laptop, some headphones, a single black pen. He threw open the other dresser - which Adam could now see had clothes in it - and dropped a gray hoodie inside.

Then, he turned to Adam.

“Last year,” he told him, “I had my own room. That means that I play my own music, and I stay up till as late as I want and I come and go as I please. I’m not changing that for you. Oh, and food that doesn’t have your name on it is fair game.”

Adam could now see where Blue’s good luck came from. Ronan was clearly the epitome of “rich douchebag” and Adam hated him already.

“The same goes for you,” he said angrily. “I’m not walking on eggshells to keep you happy. You’re just going to have to deal with sharing with me, too.”

“Fine!” Ronan growled.

“Fine!”

With that, Ronan threw himself onto his bed and began to listen to his music through his headphones, clearly pretending Adam wasn’t there. Adam, also trying to pretend Ronan didn’t exist, continued unpacking. With every possession that came out of his bag, he felt a bit better. For one, it was a clear “screw you” to Ronan’s dislike of sharing a room, which made Adam sadistically happy. Also, it only cemented the fact that Adam was at university, and he was there to stay.

Adam Parrish had left Henrietta.

Adam Parrish had made friends.

Adam Parrish _wasn’t_ going to let an awful roommate mess any of this up.


	3. Chapter Two

“First things first!” Coach Gray said on Monday morning, once the team was all together in the arena. “I _have_ read your schedules! That means that I know that none of you have any overlaps! So, if you skip practice for any reason other than getting the Kinks back together, I will have you run laps until you can no longer feel your feet.”

“Don’t you do that every day?” someone in the back asked.

Adam placed his elbows on his knees and let his face fall into his hands. He was exhausted. It was disappointing, since it was literally their first day as a team together, having their first huddle in the change room, and Adam could hardly let himself enjoy it. But he didn’t really blame himself - the past three days had left him with no energy.

He’d arrived on the Friday, and hadn’t slept at all that night for all the thoughts buzzing around in his head.

He’d spent Saturday morning hanging out with Gansey and his group (which unfortunately included Ronan, who had thrown sesame seeds at his face during breakfast). Saturday afternoon had been spent in student services, getting the information on his co-op, and at the coffee shop, applying for a job. He hadn’t slept that night either, but that was Ronan’s fault. Adam’s asshole roommate had played his awful, deafening music until three am.

Sunday had been spent with Gansey’s group again, and Adam had barely closed his eyes that night before he was woken by the sound of the door opening and closing. Ronan had left. Then come back. He’d definitely been taking advantage of his claim that he could “come and go as he pleased”, and had woken Adam up each time. Finally, after throwing a shoe in his roommate’s direction, Adam had been able to settle down. Then his alarm went off.

Now, Adam was surrounded by his teammates, each of them as groggy as he was. Except Ronan. He just looked bored.

“No, Tad,” Coach Gray said. “I make you run laps until you _can_ feel your feet. God knows you forget how to use them until I do.”

No one said anything to that.

“So let’s get on with that line-up shall we? This is for Parrish’s sake, not any of yours, so shut your mouths. Starting with Gansey - captain and offensive dealer. Declan - striker. Ronan - striker. Henry - backliner. Tad - backliner. Blue - backliner. Welcome to the team, Blue. Noah - defensive dealer. Matthew - goalie. Everyone clear on that?”

No one said anything to that either. Everyone here had been together for at least a year - they all knew each other’s positions. Adam knew that the coach had only pointed it all out for his sake, but wished he hadn’t. He’d googled everyone’s positions. He knew them as well. The only thing the introduction did was make him feel like the new kid, the outsider.

Coach Gray may as well have passed a ball around and said “let’s play the name game”.

He may not have said that, but then he did the next worst thing.

“And finally… Adam Parrish,” he announced, singling him out even more. “Our new offensive dealer. Welcome to the team, Adam. I’m sure if you ever need anything,” he gave a pointed look to the rest of the team, “any of these guys will be more than happy to help you.”

He stared at the team, making sure the demand in his statement was known.

Adam flushed. “Thank you, sir.”

Coach Gray waved him off. “That should be it - Wait, no. One more thing. I would like to let everyone know that while last year, since we had an all-male team we used both changerooms, this year all the guys will have to be in the male change room only. The female one is reserved for Blue.”

A collective groan broke out amongst the team. Adam heard multiple complaints coming from different mouths. “Will we even fit?” one person said. “That’s just great,” someone else moaned. “My favourite locker was in there!” said another. Most notably, somebody whined, “We’re not gonna stare at her! We’re not perverts!”

It was probably Tad.

Coach Gray called for quiet. Blue turned to everybody, and gave them a good, hard glare. “Thanks, guys,” she snapped.

Everyone murmured apologies.

Then, the boy whose name Adam had learned was Henry yelled, “Are we going to play or what?”

“Yes, yes,” Coach Gray sighed. “Get your asses in your gear and on the court!”

***

In the time it took Adam to put on his equipment, he’d had four different sets of hands pat his shoulders - Noah, Gansey, Henry and Tad’s, that is. Each of them had come up to him as they left the change room, usually accompanied with a small comment. They had all been good - he thought. Henry had told him he was looking forward to seeing how he played… which could be taken either way. Gansey and Tad had both told him things along the lines of ‘go get ‘em’. Noah hadn’t said anything at all.

What happened as Adam himself left the change room was weirder.

As he exited through the door he learned went to the court, Adam felt a fifth set of hands pull him aside and shove him against a wall. There, standing directly in front of him, was Declan Lynch.

It probably shouldn’t have been as weird to him as it was. This man _was_ Ronan’s brother. It wasn’t strange that he’d hadn’t fallen far from the same aggressive tree. It was just that Adam’s first impression of him had been different. He’d seemed to be the type of guy who ran student council at Adam’s old school. The kind of guy who would run for president some day, or become a lawyer.

Maybe that image wasn’t a lie. But there was no room for lawyers on an Exy court.

Declan let go of him, but he didn’t step back.

“So, you’re Ronan’s roommate,” he said, almost sounding amused.

“Yes,” Adam told him simply.

Declan laughed. It was a strange sound. “Good luck with that.” A hint of a smirk pulled on his lips. “He can be a handful.”

Adam quirked an eyebrow. “Is that what you want to tell me? That he’ll be a tough roommate? Because you didn’t have to _grab_ me to do that.”

Declan brow furrowed. “No, actually. I grabbed you to tell you to keep an eye on him for me. He tells me he’s not going to pull any stunts, but I don’t believe for a second that he won’t get himself in trouble.”

“...What kind of trouble?”

“Drinking, probably. Racing. I won’t say drugs, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Declan apparently had next to no faith in Ronan. To be fair, though, Adam wasn’t at all surprised to hear of him doing any of those things. One meeting with the middle Lynch gave Adam enough of an impression of him to place him in that rich-douchebag box. It didn’t take much effort to place him in the wannabe-bad-boy one as well.

“So, what do you want me to do? Tattle on him? I’m pretty sure that he’s not going to be so keen on telling me what his plans for getting in trouble are.”

Declan scoffed. “Just tell me if you suspect something. Or tell Gansey, since he has some sort of influence on him. But come to me _especially_ if you think he’s on drugs. That sort of thing will ruin his career.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Adam wondered if Declan was trying to keep an eye on his brother out of love, or if it was solely because he wanted what was best for his brother’s chances at going Pro.

“Well?” Declan demanded.

“Fine,” Adam grudgingly agreed. “But I’m going to Gansey first.”

“Fine by me,” Declan told him. “Let _him_ deal with all the stunts for once.” He paused. “Come on. I’m not going to be late for practice.”

Declan led him onto the court, and Adam’s breath was taken away. His entire experience with Exy had been on a field, in a public park, or in a community center’s rink. He’d never been on a court _made_ for Exy. Not until now.

He ran his foot over the polished wood, trying out the grip. It was _so_ much better than the dehydrated grass of Mountain View Park. He wouldn't have to worry about mud getting everywhere, or tripping over mounds of dirt. He could just _play._

“Adam!” he heard Gansey yell. He turned around to see Gansey standing off to the side of the court, with Noah and Blue. He ran over to them.

“Are you going to be doing drills with us?” he asked his friend.

Gansey grinned. “I am. Coach Gray told me he wants me to help run them with him some of the time, but I am permitted to join in. To keep myself in top shape, you see. I decided there was no time better than the first practice.”

Blue laughed. “Admit it, Gansey. You miss it.”

He smiled sheepishly. “I do.”

From behind Blue, Noah asked, “Are we going for gelato after practice? I want to get some sort of final meal before Blue puts on her weird diet again.”

Blue scoffed. “It’s not weird!”

Noah looked at her. “You eat yoghurt for every meal.”

“It’s good for you. And besides, I let you guys get Nino’s.”

“One, you work there. We’re practically keeping you employed. Two, you make us go on the elliptical if we have more than three slices.”

“Not on Fridays.”

“It’s your _shift_ on Fridays. That brings us back to the first point.”

Gansey laughed, and accepted Blue’s following glare. “That’s enough arguing. Yes, Noah, I don’t see why we shouldn’t go for gelato.” He turned to Adam. “You’re always welcome to join us.”

Adam grinned. “Thanks.”

 _Ronan will probably be there_ , he thought, and his smile sobered.

He looked around the court for his roommate, and found him with Declan and Matthew. They were all wearing their helmets, so he couldn’t see their expressions, but from the way Declan’s hands were moving, he assumed he was giving them a lecture. Ronan’s arm was around Matthew’s shoulders. Matthew was leaning towards Declan, seeming to soak up whatever he was saying.

A family huddle, Adam thought, and it was so ridiculous it brought his smile back.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” he asked his friends.

Gansey looked over to the brothers. “Exy, I’m sure. They have a meet-up before anything and everything. Games. Practices. I’m under the impression it’s a family tradition.”

Adam wondered what they were saying exactly. Maybe it was some sort of recap of their past mistakes, a warning not to make them again. Maybe it was a discussion of strategy… but it was only practice, so there was no need for that. Advice, then? Reminders of ways to improve, or to keep their game at its best. Maybe Declan, in all his surly glory, was giving his brothers a pep talk.

The notion was laughable.

“All right, Ravens!” Coach Gray yelled from off court, where he stood by the stick rack. “Warm up and then grab your racquets! We’re doing drills!”

Warming up apparently meant everybody standing in the middle of the court, with Blue facing them as she called out stretches. Adam, most of his strength having come from strenuous but immobile work, was _not_ flexible. This was something he learned for the first time when she told them all to hug their knees while standing up.

“I’m _not_ having any of you boys pull a muscle!” Blue yelled to them.

A bit to the left of him, Adam heard Noah moan, “I thought you weren’t our trainer anymore. I thought the torture was over.”

She grinned evilly and pointed at him. “It’s never over! Now hug those knees!”

For all his complaining, Noah was actually quite flexible. As was Gansey. _It probably comes from hanging out with Blue_ , Adam thought. _Maybe she makes them do warm-ups for fun. Oh god, maybe she’s going to make_ me _do warm-ups for fun._

After a few minutes of stretching - during which Tad toppled over, bringing Henry with him - Coach Gray instructed them all to do laps. He didn’t say how many, just “until I say stop”. Adam lost count after ten of them.

Finally, the whistle blew, and everyone was told to grab their racquets and line up - offense on one side of the middle line, defense on the other. The instructions were clear; offense had to score as many goals as they could in the time given, defense had to prevent them.

The whistle blew once more, and a ball was tossed in the middle. Gansey, being the center of the line, grabbed it. He was lined up against Tad. Behind him was Matthew, already in the goal.

Gansey swung the ball in a graceful arc over Tad’s head. Henry jumped out from beside him and snatched it. He tossed it back.

“Nice one, pal,” was all Gansey said before going to the other end of the line.

Then, Adam was in the middle, facing Noah. The ball came to him from the side, and he flung it out immediately, barely even allowing it to touch the back of his racquet. Noah acted quickly, sticking his own racquet out to intercept it, but he missed by half an inch. In the moment when the ball flew over Noah’s net, time seemed to slow down for Adam. He might get a goal. In his first practice, he might score, something that even Gansey hadn’t been able to do.

And then _whap_.

At the speed of light, Matthew caught the ball.

Adam’s face fell.

Matthew smiled at him apologetically, as if he was sorry for how his skill inconvenienced Adam. From down the row, Adam heard the unmistakeable sound of Ronan’s snicker.

Silently, Adam moved to the end of the line, taking his place beside Gansey again. The spot where he had stood only a moment before was now inhabited by an unamused Declan. Adam couldn’t help but lean forward in intrigue to watch him.

Declan’s form was perfect. Every muscle in his body was aligned in a way that made him seem like a machine, crafted and programmed for the sport. That image was intimidating on its own, but the fact that Declan was, in fact, a human made it so much more awe-inspiring. This kind of form wasn’t created with a mold, or hammered into place by a mechanic. It was made through a lifetime of drills, and practice, and training.

With a comfortable grip on his racquet, Declan waited for someone to throw the ball to him. It came, and the angle made it obvious that someone was trying to make this difficult for him. It didn’t seem to affect Declan at all, because in a maneuver too fast for Adam to understand, he caught the ball and spun it in midair as he released it.

 _There’s no way anybody would be able to catch that_ , Adam thought. _It’s going too fast, and it’s at a weird angle._

Anyone in their right mind would dive out of the way of a throw like that. It didn’t even seem like it was _possible_ to intercept.

It was, though, apparently, because Matthew, who hadn’t moved his eyes from Declan at all, caught it in a flash. There was no apologetic smile on his face now, just a cocky grin.

“Did you think I’d go easy on you, big brother?” he called out happily.

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Declan yelled back, lacking the cold front he’d displayed earlier. “Next one, though. I’ll get it in.”

And then Declan was out of the spot and Ronan was there.

It was obvious that Ronan found this entirely unnecessary. If he was anywhere near as good as Declan, then Adam agreed. This kind of practice was so beneath their skill level that it must have seemed like a joke to all three of the Lynch brothers. Matthew appeared to be enjoying himself, and Declan apparently took everything about Exy as serious as life… but Ronan didn’t share their opinions, if the bored look on his face indicated anything.

His form was as perfect as Declan’s, but Adam could see he wasn’t trying. He held himself differently, not like a cyborg of trained precision, but like the prodigy he was - an image of casual excellence.

“You ready, Matt?” he called out, entirely confident that nobody in the row of backliners would be able to catch it. He said it like a joke. Matthew would, of course, be ready.

Matthew knew this as well, because he spread his arms in response.

Like with Declan, the ball was thrown at him at a difficult angle in a fruitless effort to challenge him. The second it was released, Ronan’s bored expression morphed into an intense look of concentration. His arm swung before the ball even came near him, and for a split second Adam thought he had acted too quickly and missed. That was a stupid thing to think, because of course Ronan hadn’t missed. But he hadn’t really _caught_ it either. His arm had swung in such a circular motion that by the time the ball had reached his racquet, it was in and out of it like it had hit a forcefield. One second, the ball was flying towards him, and the next, it was rocketing the opposite direction in a way that made it seem like it was _curving_ in the air.

It went over the backliners - to Blue’s great annoyance, as she had been facing him - and towards Matthew. He dove for it, but it was like the ball had a mind of its own, dodging his racquet. It flew into the goal, lighting it up red.

“I thought you said you were ready,” Ronan teased. All casual, like he hadn’t just performed the most impressive play Adam had ever seen in his life.

“I was!” Matthew cried indignantly. Then, he smirked. “I just wasn’t expecting you to put in any actual _effort_ on the first practice.”

Ronan scoffed, and moved away.

The rest of the drill went much like that - Adam and Gansey getting used to way everyone played, getting to Matthew sometimes and being blocked by the backliners others, and Ronan and Declan showing off without even trying.

After that, they had to run obstacle courses between cones (“Footwork, cupcakes! I don’t coach clumsy oafs!”) and practice passing while doing it. This was all the easy stuff, Adam knew, to get them used to playing. That said, by the end of practice, his arms felt dead and his feet felt like they’d been tortured.

He was _really_ looking forward to that gelato.

It took Gansey’s group a while to get there, though, because they all were perfectly content to stand under the hot stream of the showers until someone kicked them out.

Well, nobody kicked them out, but Gansey and Adam were both suddenly very keen on leaving once Ronan and Noah began to try and murder their ears with “singing”.

(“Is it just me, or are the acoustics really good in here?”

“Please tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“I think I am… SQUAAAAASH ONE!”

“SQUASH TWOOOOOO!”)

They hadn’t made it past squash two before Gansey was drying off and herding them out of the change room to his car. Blue was already there, waiting for them. She climbed into the passenger side as soon as Gansey unlocked the doors to the Camaro - the _bright orange_ Camaro - and left Adam to climb into the back with Ronan and Noah.

“You guys never let us sing,” Noah complained.

“That wasn’t singing,” Adam told him. “That was an attack on my ears.”

“Rude.”

As it turned out, the gelato parlor was only five minutes from campus. The four of them apparently went there a lot, because Noah walked in and ordered for everybody without wasting a breath. He asked what Adam wanted. Adam didn’t know. Something that didn’t have any toppings. He told Noah this, but he didn’t mention that it was because he couldn’t afford to buy anything that cost more than five dollars.

Gansey led them all over to a table, where Adam was seated - like he’d feared - beside Ronan.

“I’d forgotten how much I missed this place,” Noah said through a mouthful of strawberry gelato.

“I second that,” Blue agreed.

“I don’t see how you _could_ forget about this place,” Ronan smirked. “You’re what’s keeping it in business.”

Noah didn’t even respond to that, he simply shoved another spoonful in his mouth and moaned. It was almost obscenely enthusiastic.

Adam poked at his own hazelnut gelato. He’d never had ice cream - or anything like it - as a child. There just hadn’t been enough money to “waste on sugary confections”, as his mother had put it. But now.... Well, athletes had their own type of meal card, and full access to the school dining halls. And once he got a job, anything Adam didn’t send home to his parents, he could spend as he pleased.

That meant gelato, if he wanted it.

He dug his spoon into the dessert and brought it between his lips. After they acknowledged the cold, all Adam could think about was the sweetness. He didn’t really have anywhere to compare this gelato parlor to, but in his opinion it could quite possibly be the best. Because mmmm…

“Guys,” Blue said. “I think we’ve lost him.”

Adam looked up to see everybody staring at him. Noah was on the verge of laughter.

“He’s seen the light,” Noah smiled.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Shut up. It’s just that… it’s just that I’ve never had gelato before.”

Blue looked at him like he’d just told her he was an alien with three heads. “ _Never?”_

“No,” he told her. And then, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Gansey clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, at least this day is an occasion. First team practice _and_ first gelato!”

“Oh yes,” Ronan grumbled, “let’s put it in the fucking scrapbook.”

Gansey gave him a stern look. Ronan didn’t seem to notice.

“Come on, Ronan,” Blue chided. “If there’s anything worth putting in the scrapbook, it would definitely be Adam’s first gelato. Gelato is important.”

“Do you guys actually have a scrapbook?” Adam asked. He felt like he was missing something. The teasing way Blue spoke of ‘the’ scrapbook made it sound like it was an ongoing thing that Adam had missed out on.

For the second time in under five minutes, Blue and Noah stared at him in shock. Gansey covered his face with his hands. Ronan leaned back in his seat and smirked.

“Ohhhh,” Blue said. “He doesn’t know about the scrapbook!”

“Listen up, kiddo,” Noah said, leaning forward conspiratorially, like he was sharing some huge secret. “It isn’t just a scrapbook, it’s _the_ scrapbook.”

Adam squinted. “What makes it so special?”

“Nothing!” Gansey cried. “Nothing makes it special!”

“I call bullshit!” Blue snapped at him. Then she turned back to Adam. “Okay, so last year Gansey took a photography class, and he and Noah said they were both going to make scrapbooks. Right? Right. So, Noah comes up with his - it was very nice, lots of glitter, all artsy -”

“Thanks, Blue,” Noah blushed. To Adam, he said, “I still make them. It’s actually pretty fun.”

“And _anyway_ , Gansey -” She looked at him pointedly. “- never shows us his.”

“I never promised I would!” Gansey’s voice was comically high.

“Which leads to the question; what did he put in it? And he won’t tell us, I swear I’ve asked him a million times.”

“And nobody can find it,” Noah added.

“We’ve looked everywhere! He says he’s still adding stuff to it. I don’t think he’s ever going to be done with it.”

“This really isn’t that big of a deal,” Gansey told him urgently.

“Yes, it is!” Blue shushed him. “Because you’re so secretive about it! Maybe you _have_ finished and you just won’t show it to us.”

“I’m _not_ finished,” Gansey assured her.

“And when you _are_ done, are you going to let us see it?”

“Perhaps.”

Noah leaned towards Adam. “Hey, you can get in on the scrapbook bet if you want.”

“The scrapbook bet?”

“Yeah. Where it’s hidden… What’s in it… I think it’s a collection of Owen Glendower pictures.”

Gansey flushed. He appeared to be valiantly attempting to shrink back into his seat. Adam asked, “The Exy star?”

“And Gansey’s man-crush,” Blue added, a laugh in her voice. “But I don’t think it’s that. I think it’s all those pictures Gansey takes. Probably just a bunch of shots of Cabeswater or flowers or something.”

“But why wouldn’t he show you guys that?” Adam wondered.

“Maybe it’s wedding plan photos.”

“Maybe it’s selfies.”

“Maybe it’s porn,” said Ronan, breaking his streak of silence.

“Ronan!” Gansey shrieked, obviously mortified. “I assure you, it’s _not that!_ Okay, that’s enough of the scrapbook talk, everyone eat your gelato.”

Everyone laughed, but did as he said, because this gelato was _definitely_ worth getting back to. As Adam unceremoniously shoved spoonfuls into his mouth, hoping he didn’t look as enthusiastic as Noah, he couldn’t help but look around at the table of people around him. He didn’t think he had ever been surrounded by this many people his own age - well, Noah _was_ a year older, but still close - who actually wanted him to be there. Was this what he had been missing out on by never striving for friends? Being friends with kids at his old school certainly wouldn’t have involved going out for gelato.

What would it have involved? Meeting up at three am? Maybe on days when his father wasn’t home. Playing sports together? Adam had only ever played Exy in any environment that wasn’t Phys Ed. Would his friends have cared about his bruises? He wasn’t even going to think about that.

He wondered what friendship was like at Aglionby. Adam had imagined that it was exactly like what he saw. Kids driving fast cars without a care in the world, drinking beer on the curb, patting each other on the back and talking about their million dollar vacations. Looking at all these raven boys beside him, he figured it couldn’t be entirely that. Maybe on the surface. But underneath…

“Little Princes,” his father had called the raven boys. He hadn’t said it nicely.

Either way, no matter where these boys were, they were always going to be boys from Aglionby. And now Adam was friends with them. For them, friendship was going out for gelato, and solving the mysteries of a scrapbook, and egging people’s cars.

And now that Adam had this kind of friendship, he wasn’t sure he wanted the other.

“I’m really thinking we have a shot at championships this year,” Gansey was saying.

“You say that every year,” Ronan argued.

“I mean it every year. And this year I mean it exceedingly. Just look at our line-up. I’m aware that our team is much smaller, what with the graduates and the drop-outs leaving, but every player we do have is excellent!”

“We’re only one player away from being disqualified, Gansey. Anyone so much as _sprains their ankle_ and we’re out.”

“Oh, don’t be such a pessimist, Ronan,” Gansey told him.

Gansey faced the table and began to draw an invisible map with his pointer finger. “You and Declan can carry our striker line without any problem, and for mandatory switches, we put in Adam.” Ronan balked at this and glared at Adam, obviously unhappy with the fact he would have to let him into his line. “Blue, Tad, and Henry have enough players to switch out between them, and they’re all strong players.” He gave Blue’s shoulder a squeeze. “Matthew can last a full half as a goalie, and while we don’t have a replacement for him, we can always bring in Noah.”

He pushed his weight off of the table. “See? The gaps aren’t that big.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “And what if we end up with Noah playing goalie at the same time that Adam’s a striker?”

Gansey looked at him seriously. “We’ll plan it out so that doesn’t happen. And if it does… I’ll go in.”

Everyone’s jaw dropped to the floor. “Gansey!” they all screeched in outrage, drawing the attention of an old lady in the corner. Blue, Noah, and Ronan all began to loudly express their objections, one on top of the other.

“You can’t do that! Coach said-”

“And fuck up all your progress? No w-”

“You aren’t fully recovered! This is-”

Gansey held up a hand to shush all of them. Miraculously, the three of them all immediately stopped their squabbling. What kind of boy was Gansey, Adam wondered, to be able to silence a room with just a wave of a hand?

“I am permitted to join the game if there is a gap. That’s the whole reason I’m not benched for the entire season. I know my anxiety can be… beastly, but I am well aware of my limits, and so I will _only_ step in if it is necessary.”

Blue warily looked him over. Her hand stretched out and fit itself over top of his. “I know this is hard for you, Gansey,” she said softly. “But it’s not forever. You’ll get a handle on your anxiety, and then you’ll be back on the court and playing in no time.”

Gansey smiled weakly, and Adam could tell he was trying to put on a face of confidence. “Yes, that would be wonderful. I just don’t… I don’t know exactly how long “no time” is.”

“However long you need it to be,” Adam told him.

Gansey nodded at his words, but they didn’t seem to go through all the way. “I know,” he said quietly.

From the corner of his eye, Adam saw Ronan’s brow furrow. He moved around in his seat.

The mood in the room was somber now, everyone looking down at their laps, or fiddling with their spoons. Adam’s gelato was already eaten, and suddenly he was glad there wasn’t any more. Even something that delicious now seemed impossible to consume. All of his appetite had drained along with the cheeriness.

“You know, Gansey,” Ronan spoke up from beside him. “It really doesn’t _matter_ how long it takes you to play again. Either way, by the time you’re up there, this place _still_ won’t have pistachio ice cream.”

Adam turned to him. “Pistachio?” he asked disdainfully. “Isn’t that the green gross stuff?”

Ronan crossed his arms indignantly. “Have you ever tried it?” he sneered.

“No. But it’s green dairy. That says enough.”

“Who would have thought _you_ would be one to judge a book by its cover.”

Adam squinted at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know what it means.”

“Yeah, it means that you always seem to have the need to be a massive di-”

Gansey stood up abruptly, knocking Blue into Noah, and making all the spoons and bowls on the table jump up and clatter. Both Ronan and Adam turned to stare at him in confusion.

“I think it’s time to go!” he exclaimed. “It’s been such a wonderful time! We should do this again.”

Blue narrowed her eyes at him. “We _do_ do this all the-”

“We really should be getting back to Monmouth. Would you just _look_ at how dark it is!”

It wasn’t dark at all, but Gansey dug into his pocket and threw enough money to cover all of their meals onto the table. Adam didn’t even have time to wonder at how easy it was for him to spend all that and be envious, because Ronan was pushing at his shoulder, encouraging him to get out of the booth.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he muttered.

The car ride back to Monmouth was almost painful. In the span of the five minutes it took them to drive back, Gansey had made four failed attempts at conversation, Blue and Ronan had argued over the radio station, and Noah had touched Adam’s hair. That last part wasn’t even as strange as it should have been. Noah’s innocent expression had made the action instantly forgivable, which was something that Adam was _not_ used to.

Gansey, the resident gentleman, offered to walk Blue back to Fox Way. She said no, and told him that she would sleep over, already helping herself to his phone to call her family. Adam wondered if that was a thing that happened often, but the indisputable blush on Gansey’s face told him that it didn’t happen often enough to be overlooked.

Noah murmured something about chaperoning before saying goodnight and shutting the door.

“It’s like seven o’clock,” Adam mentioned.

“Noah likes his rest. He sleeps like the dead most of the time,” Gansey told him. “Blue and I are likely going to watch a movie now. Care to join us?”

Adam would have liked to join, and would have liked even more to avoid Ronan, who was already in their room, but he declined. Now that they weren’t in a group setting, Adam’s exhaustion had kicked in. The last thing he wanted was to wake up to find himself drooling on Gansey’s shoulder after only knowing him for a few days.

“Very well, then,” Gansey said. “I’ll be on my way. I might as well say goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

They walked into their separate rooms.

The first thing Adam heard when he walked into the room was the very disconcerting sound of a drill. Panic rushed through him and he surged forward, prepared to stop Ronan from destroying whatever it was he was messing with. In his disoriented state it took him a moment to process where Ronan even _was_ , and then he stopped short.

Ronan was... installing a whiteboard.

There he was, standing in front of the blank piece of wall beside the closet, drilling screws into it. On Adam’s bed laid the board, ready to be mounted once Ronan was done.

“What are you doing?” Adam asked him.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he responded, not turning around.

“Do you only speak in questions?”

“Do you?”

Adam sighed, refusing to play this game with him. He supposed his plans for getting an early night were ruined, what with all the noise. How many screws did a whiteboard need? He moved over to his bed and sat down, brushing the board and its box aside.

He said the first non-question that popped up in his head. “You’re good at Exy.”

“I know.”

“Have you ever been _not_ good at Exy?”

He waited, expecting the question game to come back into play. It didn’t. Instead, there was just a pause, and Ronan’s hands stilled.

“I don’t remember,” he said. The phrase was simple enough, but there was something in his voice. Something Adam could tell he wouldn’t elaborate on.

As if pressing a button on a TV remote, Ronan began to move again, lifting the whiteboard from the bed and mounting it on the wall. He took a step back and admired his work. Apparently it was good enough, because he gave a curt nod and walked away.

“Hey!” Adam said. “Aren’t you going to throw out the box?” He lifted it up and waved it at his roommate.

Ronan looked at him like he was stupid. “No,” he replied.

“What? Do you expect _me_ to do it?”

Ronan seemed faintly amused. Once again, there was something indistinguishable in his voice when he spoke. “No,” he said. “I don’t expect you to do it at all.”

He walked over and plucked the box up from Adam’s bed, placing it beside his own instead.

“You’re not throwing it out.”

“I’m not done with it.”

Adam wanted to ask what Ronan could _possibly_ want to do with that box, but he decided against it. The fact that he was probably better off not knowing won over his curiosity. Ronan was probably going to burn it. Just for kicks. It wasn’t actually hard to imagine Ronan standing in a parking lot, his face illuminated by the light of a fire, smiling wildly. If there was anything that would make him grin, it was probably destroying things.

Instead of asking any more questions, Adam simply rolled his eyes. “I’m going to bed,” he said. “And I’m turning off the light.”

Ronan didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t say goodnight, but he didn’t put up a fight either when Adam flipped the light switch. That was something, at least. Adam warily changed into his pajamas, still not entirely comfortable with undressing in front of somebody - especially when that somebody was _Ronan Lynch_. But Ronan wasn’t paying any attention to him, and was watching something on his laptop, thankfully with headphones.

There was still a stream of light coming from the window between their beds, but Adam didn’t want to risk having a fight over something like the blinds, so he stayed quiet.

Surprisingly, falling asleep was extremely easy in his dorm bed. Maybe it was because he was getting used to the mattress, or the sound of Ronan’s breathing. Maybe it was because the first practice was over and no longer a stressor. Maybe it was because Ronan wasn’t blaring music this time around.

Maybe it was because he was more than an hour away from Henrietta and his parents’ doublewide. He could fall asleep here and not have to hear the clinking of beer bottles, or the sounds of neighbours arguing. He could sleep with both eyes closed, because he would never have to wake up to his father’s rage.

Adam was asleep two minutes after his eyes fell shut.

 

* * *

 

It had been two weeks since he arrived at Monmouth, and Adam thought he was fitting in. Well, he at least thought he _appeared_ to be fitting in. He could tell that he would never really be able to not notice the way his vowels were just a little too long, even when he clipped them. Or the way he never chimed in when his teammates talked about their summer vacations. And he would always be a little too aware of how empty his pockets felt.

But he had friends.

Gansey waved him over at every practice, Blue gave him Persephone’s pie, Noah showed him pictures of his sisters. Adam had been invited to every Nino’s outing. There was still Ronan, who gave him wary sideways glances and picked little fights with him, but Adam thought they were getting better. Ronan had a pretty clear line that he drew in front of himself, and so long as Adam didn’t cross it, they were mostly okay.

Adam was mixing well with the other members of the team, too. Tad was extremely friendly, and Henry didn’t interact with him much, but didn’t seem to have a problem with him. Matthew was nothing but kind to him, and Declan wasn’t as sour as Adam thought he could be.

“You’re taking economics, right?” Declan had asked him a few days earlier.

“Uh, yeah,” Adam had said, taken aback by the interaction.

“I still have my year one notes if you ever need them. I’m not helping you float through your schoolwork, but… they’re there.”

“Thanks,” Adam told him, because he had nothing else to say. Declan gave him a curt nod of approval and was on his way.

This whole college adventure was going quite well. The cafe he’d applied to had called him back - well, they called the dorm number, and luckily Adam had picked up first - to tell him he had the job. He would start the first week of classes. Then, all he would have to worry about was sending the money home. Well, that and keeping his grades up. And Exy, of course.

But other than that he was fine.

He was actually doing fine.

Adam slept in for the first time that morning. It was a Saturday, and there were no practices on Saturdays, so Adam had turned off his alarm. By the time he woke up, it was eleven am. Ronan wasn’t in the room. Gansey was probably out with Blue and Noah. It was like being in a different universe, a strange and eerie feeling of just beginning your day when everyone else had already started theirs.

But the sleep was good.

Adam slowly let himself go about his morning routine, basking in the peace, and the sunlight streaming softly in through the windows. There was an unfamiliar sense of calmness spreading through his bones, saturating him. The feeling of being apart from the rest of the world grew, but in those moments it was nice, like being wrapped in a blanket of timelessness. He wanted to stay like that forever.

But he was hungry, so he pushed himself out of his dorm room, hoping the peacefulness would last all the way to the dining hall.

It didn’t, because the second he left his room, he was bombarded by the sight of Tad rushing in his direction. “Code Lynch!” he was yelling. “Somebody get Coach! No, somebody get Gansey!”

Bewildered, Adam watched him disappear down the hallway. He took a step closer to the direction he had just come from. It was the doors leading to the landing outside their floor. What the hell was Tad going on about…? Code Lynch?

Curiosity getting the best of him, Adam marched forward to the doors and pushed them open. Sure enough, there were the Lynch brothers. Declan and Ronan were positioned on the concrete… fighting. Adam stood there, stunned, and watched it happen. Ronan’s fist connected with Declan’s stomach. Declan elbowed Ronan’s jaw. Ronan grabbed a fistful of Declan’s hair and pulled it, hard.

They weren’t holding back.

A few steps in the wrong direction and they would topple down the stairs.

They were going to _kill_ each other.

Adam wanted to step forward and break it up before it got too bad. He wanted to shove his body between them until they couldn’t hit each other anymore. He wanted to pull them away from each other and stop the violence. But he couldn’t.

Adam knew what it was like to have a fist in his face, to be kneed, punched, have his hair yanked. His body’s self preservation forced him to give up his heroic fantasies, and stay put. Despite everything Adam wanted to do to help, he just couldn’t. It was like his body couldn’t move at all. He was frozen, stuck watching in horror as the Lynch brothers tore at each other, the steps between him and them seeming like miles.

“Stop it!” he yelled from where he stood. “Cut it out!”

They didn’t listen. Adam knew from experience that they probably couldn’t even hear him over the blood rushing through their ears. Fear made adrenaline course through him, making him feel each and every one of their blows as an echo on his own body.

Adam felt someone’s hands on his back, shoving him out of the way. He stumbled, and then there was Gansey, emerging from the door to the landing. He looked powerful, and fearless, and fierce. He looked like a king commanding a war, whereas Adam looked like a cowering peasant against the wall.

Gansey stormed up to the brothers and placed his hands on both of their chests, shoving them apart. Ronan and Declan looked no less enraged, and they seemed to want nothing more than to get back to their fighting, but they didn’t struggle against Gansey’s barrier.

“Stop it!” Gansey commanded. “Both of you!”

Declan took a step back, his body visibly itching with the adrenaline. “We don’t need you to settle our disputes.”

“Disputes?” Gansey asked scornfully. “Punching the living daylights out of each other is no way to settle a ‘dispute’. It’s violent, and childish, and it could get both of you suspended if anyone other than one of us catches you! If either one of you gets punished, you could be off the team, and then the season is over! Is that what you want?”

Gansey must have said the right words, because Declan’s face became the reserved image of distance that Adam was used to. Ronan in no way calmed down, but he took a step back.

“You two better learn to stop fighting like this, or I swear I am going to put both of you in therapy!”

Ronan scoffed.

“Together!” Gansey continued, and Ronan’s face sobered, acknowledging the displeasure of that threat.

“I’m going out to lunch with Ashley,” Declan announced. He pointed an accusing finger at Ronan. “Don’t be where she can see you when we get back.”

He turned on his heel and stormed into the hallway, letting the door swing behind him and slam against the frame. With him gone, the scene was quieter and more personal. Adam felt like he shouldn’t be there at all.

Gansey turned to Ronan, pulling a hand through his hair in exasperation. “How many _times_ have I told you… What was it this time?”

Ronan glowered. “What is it ever?”

“There’s always _something_ that sets you two off. What was it this time? Ashley? Matthew? It can’t be your grades, classes don’t start for another week.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. In a tight voice, he said, “It was mom, okay? Happy?”

Gansey began to say something, but it didn’t matter. Ronan was already pushing past him and making his way out the door. The landing was silent for a few moments. Then, Gansey became aware again of Adam’s presence. He turned around to face him, his expression apologetic.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he told him. Adam could only nod. “They didn’t use to be like this. After Coach Lynch’s death, though, they just….” He gestured vaguely at the landing where the fight had just taken place.

“How often do they do that?” Adam asked weakly.

Gansey pinched the bridge of his nose. “There isn’t a schedule to it. Usually it’s after we lose a game, or when progress reports come out. Sometimes it’s when Declan gets a new, er, companion that he brings around. Other than that, it’s anything that sets them off.”

“Is it - is it just them? Or-” Adam couldn’t finish the sentence. He wanted to know if, once again, he would have to fear for his body’s well being. Would he, too, have to watch out after a losing game for Ronan’s rage? Would he have to sleep somewhere else when he smelled alcohol? Would he have to step around Declan’s moods for fear of being grabbed again, but this time with more bruises at the end?

Gansey seemed to understand what he was getting at, because his eyes widened. Frantically, he said, “No, no! God, no, it’s just them!” He placed a steady hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Ronan and Declan can be scary, but you don’t have to fear them. All of their problems, they keep them between the two of them. They’re violent, yes, but not to others.”

Adam nodded. He waved a hand in the direction of the door. “I’m gonna go.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea. I’m very sorry you got caught up in that.”

Adam pushed through the door that lead to the dorm hallway. He knew that it wasn’t the way he was going originally, but he wasn’t hungry anymore, and his feet just kept moving. He found himself walking back towards his room, and standing outside the door. It was closed. Should he knock? Or was that stupid? He didn’t even know if Ronan was in there. But a part of him said that he was, and so Adam walked in.

Like he’d guessed, Ronan was there. Adam’s roommate was sitting on his bed, in the same position he was usually in when he listened to music. But he wasn’t wearing headphones. He must have heard Adam enter, but he didn’t acknowledge him in any way.

Adam moved over to the mini fridge beside Ronan’s desk, and looked inside. He was hoping to find ice, but all there was on the shelves were a few cans of beer and coke. Abandoning his search, Adam moved closer to Ronan. He felt like he shouldn’t be doing this. Ronan had just been in a fight, he was probably still worked up, and here Adam was, getting in his personal space. Ronan could snap at any second. Gansey said he wasn’t violent to people other than Declan, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a bad side, or that he wasn’t vicious. Adam felt like he was prodding a snake.

But he didn’t stop. The next thing he knew, he was standing right beside Ronan’s bed. Ronan still didn’t look at him.

“That’s gonna bruise,” Adam told him. He could tell with these things. He’d seen the last few punches Declan had thrown, and if those weren’t enough to mark, then surely the ones that had happened before Adam had gotten there would.

“I know,” Ronan said in a low voice.

“You should put ice on it. You don’t have any in the fridge.”

“I know.”

“Do you _want_ to go walking around with a messed up face? If you don’t put ice on it soon, it’s just going to look even worse, and it could swell-”

Ronan looked up at him, and suddenly all Adam could see were his blue eyes, severe as ice, and eyebrows that looked like they could cut skin. Ronan was standing up now, inches away from Adam, and he lost all his ability to breathe. If Adam had been prodding the snake before, well, now he was in a pit of them. One wrong move and…

“I _have_ been punched before, Parrish,” he said. He walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out a beer. “And it looks like you have been too.”

Adam stood there, frozen.

“The real question is who threw the first punch. Don’t worry, I won’t ask. The fights a man gets into are his business, so I’d appreciate it if we both played by that no-questions rule.” He popped the tab and took a swig. “It’ll be a lot easier that way.”

The words sounded like an agreement, but Adam couldn’t shake the feeling of _threat threat threat_ coursing through him.

“What are you going to tell Coach?” Adam asked, trying to get the focus away from himself.

Ronan scoffed. “I’m not going to tell him anything. He knows.”

“You don’t want to explain yourself at all? Can’t students get suspended for violence?”

Ronan gave him a look of marvelous disdain. “He won’t suspend me,” he said like it was obvious. “And he won’t suspend Declan either. In case you’ve forgotten, Gray is the Exy coach, and in order to be an Exy _coach_ , you need an Exy _team_. And even if we _weren’t_ one player away from being too small to play, he still wouldn’t suspend us. And do you know why that is?”

Adam’s jaw clenched at the condescending tone. “What?” he gritted out.

Ronan took another swig of his beer. “Because we’re the fucking best. And before you call me arrogant, because I know you’re about to, it’s the truth. It doesn’t matter what we do, because any coach who kicks us off their team is a fucking idiot.”

It _was_ true, and that made Adam angry. He wanted to call Ronan out for being so arrogant and full of himself, but he couldn’t. Everything he was saying was true and unexaggerated. Ronan and his brothers had been _raised_ on Exy. If the articles were right, then for almost their entire lives they had spent an average of three hours a day practicing, and that wasn’t including the workshops, the scrimmages, the weekend long drills their father made them do. They had been built from the ground up as Exy players, and they played like it. They _were_ the best, and so they wouldn’t be off the team, no matter how many stunts they pulled. So long as the board didn’t find out, Coach Gray would cover for anything they did, just to make them stay.

Adam was kind of jealous. He was naturally talented, yes, but he’d never been given the opportunity to focus on Exy before this year. He wondered what it would have been like to be coached by Niall Lynch. He was famous for his skill. He never worked with teams for long, only coming on as a consultant coach for sessions, during which he turned bumbling idiots into synchronized machines. Adam’s own skill would probably have improved drastically.

Then he wondered what it would have been like to be _raised_ and coached by Niall Lynch, the way the Lynch brothers had. Adam’s own personal family experience at first made him wish for it. He could be trained properly, have a mother who was always there to love him, have a father who wanted him to succeed. He could be rich. He could be cherished.

He knew those first few parts were true because of the articles he’d read, but being cherished? He didn’t know if the brothers had been cherished. Coveted sounded more truthful. He imagined what it would be like to have a father who was rarely home, and when he was home, would focus solely on training. He wondered what it would be like to have to live up to such high standards, to have to fly across the country every month and be part of games, to have cameras watching him grow up, and forums discussing his upbringing. He wondered what it would be like to be raised as ‘an Exy player’, and ‘part of a set’, and ‘a future Pro’, instead of Adam Parrish.

To be quite honest.... he didn’t like it.

So, to Ronan he said the words that no Exy star would ever expect an Exy amateur to say.

“I pity you.”

Ronan was visibly taken aback, his mouth falling open around the rim of his beer. “What was that?”

“I said I pity you. And I do. Because for the rest of your life you are always going to be Ronan Lynch the Exy Player. You can try and get out of it, but you can’t. No matter what you do with your life, it’s always going to come back to Exy. You go Pro, and it was always expected of you. You choose something else, and you’re letting your fans down. You’re stuck with it.”

Ronan blinked at him, his mouth still open. And then he began to laugh. Actually laugh. After a few seconds of cackling, he calmed himself down enough to say, “And what if I want to play Exy? What if I’m not the ruined youth all those forums make me out to be?”

“You can’t tell me someone can come from a childhood like yours, and not be a little messed up. And from what I saw between you and Declan, I think that’s exactly what you are.”

Ronan’s amused expression suddenly became poisonous, and before Adam could brace himself, Ronan was charging forward. No hit came. Adam opened the eyes he hadn’t realized he’d shut to see those icy eyes again. They were an inch from his face, and merciless.

“Don’t you _ever_ talk about my family that way. They are _my_ business and not yours, so I suggest that if it doesn’t have anything to do with you, you just keep your mouth _shut_.”

It wasn’t a question, so Adam didn’t say anything back. He refused to nod frantically, or apologize, or do any of the things that made him a spineless coward back in Henrietta. Ronan was probably a lot worse than his father when he wanted to be, but he didn’t have to get that far. Adam didn’t have to let him walk all over him.

But he wasn’t going to push it. Not right now, at least.

“I’m grabbing breakfast,” he said cooly, and pushed himself away from Ronan. Ronan didn’t put up a fight against that, and let Adam walk out.

When Adam finally made it to the dining hall, all the breakfast foods had been replaced by lunch fixings. Holding his meal card like an invaluable treasure, he selected a pizza for himself. He didn’t know where Gansey and the rest of his group were, and he was kind of thankful for that. Gansey would make him think of Ronan, and thinking of Ronan would make him think of their argument, and thinking of that would make Adam fear that he’d just created another problem for himself.

He already had money, and school, and Exy to worry about. He already had his father to fear. Adam really couldn’t juggle another problem in his life, so he hoped that Ronan wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. But he was pretty sure he was.

Whatever.

Whatever Ronan wanted to throw in Adam’s face, Adam had already made it this far, and he wasn’t stopping now.

Adam Parrish was an Exy player.

Adam Parrish belonged somewhere.

Adam Parrish wasn’t going to give up until he was where he wanted to be in life.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I'm sorry for the late update. Life just suddenly got really busy and I kinda had to put down the fic for a while. This chapter got pretty lengthy too, so it took longer to write. I hope you all like it! This one's in Ronan's POV btw.

  
It was the first day of classes, and Ronan was skipping all of them to prove a point. He wasn’t exactly sure what the point _was_ , but he was definitely proving it. It wasn’t that he _disliked_ any of his classes. The worst one was English, and he had joined that one on a whim - but he was pretty sure that if he actually sat down to read the books, he might find a couple that he liked.

The point Ronan was proving had something to do with expectations. People seemed to believe that Ronan Lynch didn’t care about anything, but that was a lie. Ronan just didn’t go out of his way to _show_ people when he cared about something, because once they knew that he was attached to it, they would get all these damn expectations. If he liked a class, Gansey was on his case for not doing his homework. If he showed how much Exy meant to him, then Declan was all over him for not trying hard enough - which he did anyway, but Ronan was sure it would be worse if he expressed himself more. If he had a goal in life, heaven forbid he mention it, because then _everybody he knew_ would be “supportive” and rail on him about it.

So, Ronan figured he was better off proving the point that he didn’t _have_ to care about anything, and that he didn’t give a single fuck about people’s expectations.

Today, that meant skipping all of his classes.

He sat on his bed, listening to music, and placed bets with himself on who would be the first person to chew him out for not showing up. Currently, it was a three way tie between Gansey, Declan, and Parrish.

Declan was busy tonight, though, with some “meeting” with the cheerleaders. He wouldn’t have enough time to see Ronan personally, and Ronan was sure he would be too… _preoccupied_ to call him. Not Declan then.

He mentally crossed of Declan’s name from his list.

His phone rung. It was Gansey. Ronan smirked, and made a faint ' _ding ding ding_ you have a winner' sound, before dropping his phone against his bed. To further prove his point, he let it go to voicemail. It rung again. He waited for it to ring twice before picking up, making his voice affect casual disinterest.

“Yes?”

“You weren’t in English,” Gansey told him, not beating around the bush.

“You aren’t in my English class,” Ronan replied. That meant Gansey must have asked somebody else who _was_ in his English class about Ronan’s attendance. Either that or he had been waiting outside for him to leave. Ronan wouldn’t put it past him.

“I’m not,” Gansey agreed. “But Adam is, and he told me you weren’t there.”

_Parrish_ , Ronan thought. This was where it got interesting. Did Gansey win the bet, because he was the one who called Ronan to chew him out? Or did Adam win, for being the one to chew him out first, indirectly, through Gansey? He would have to ask Noah to decide.

“I could have been sitting in the back.”

“We both know you weren’t.”

Ronan knew Gansey couldn’t see him, but he shrugged anyway. There was something about having a conversation with Gansey that never let Ronan be neutral. He was either up in everyone’s faces, ranting about one of his opinions, or he was so completely apathetic that he could just _feel_ others’ annoyance at him. He didn’t usually care, though. There were so few living people whose opinions Ronan gave a shit about that he could probably count them on one hand.

Sometimes, he liked pushing Gansey. Just to remind himself that Gansey would come back.

“It’s syllabus day. It’s practically optional. Besides, I can always get ahold of the professors guidebooks later.”

“I know, I just… I want you to try. And not just so you can stay on the team. I want you to try at _something_ this year, Ronan.”

Ronan didn’t respond for a while.

“I know, Gansey,” Ronan finally replied. After a beat, he said, “And you can always keep wanting.”

He hung up.

  
An hour later, Parrish barged in.

It was the worst “barging in” that Ronan had ever seen, actually. Adam marched in all gung ho, but the second he laid eyes on Ronan, he faltered. He walked in more calmly now, watching him warily before sitting down on his bed.

It wasn’t a surprise, really. Ronan knew that for him, it was Gansey that never allowed him to be neutral. For Adam, it was Ronan. Whenever they were in the same room, Adam was either cautiously ignoring him, or being completely up in his face. Given their shared social circle and living quarters, they were in the same room _a lot_ , which made Ronan’s entire life seem like a merry-go-round of Adam’s mood swings.

_Wait for it_ , he told himself. 3… 2….1….

“Do you always skip class or is this a one time thing?”

Just to amuse himself, Ronan didn’t respond.

“I know you said that you won’t get kicked off the team for anything,” Adam continued, “but Gansey’s gonna kill you. You should’ve heard him at lunch. He started going on about ‘potential’, and ‘capability’.”

He stayed silent once more. 3… 2… 1…

“Are you even listening to me?!”

Finally, Ronan turned around so that he could see Adam on his bed. Unable to keep the smirk off of his face, he said, “I’m listening. How _did_ your first day of classes go?”

Adam squinted at him, obviously unappreciative of Ronan’s dripping sarcasm. “It was _fine_. All we did was learn the expectations and protocols, which I doubt will ever be something _you’re_ good at, so I don’t really blame you for skipping.”

Ronan forced himself not to roll his eyes. If he gave in to that urge _every_ time Parrish said something prickly, he would go blind from eye abuse.

“Well, how was Gansey? I’m sure he got a kick from the whole ordeal.”

“Haha, very funny,” Adam said. “He’s not that big on rules either, you know, he’s just better than _you_. He’s in my Economics class, which was surprising because we’re not in the same year. But he said something about having… therapy? Last year?” Ronan nodded. “So, he’s taking it this year instead.”

A thought occurred to Ronan, and it made him grin. “Well, that will be very educational for you. When Gansey’s in your class, you get to learn _all about_ Owen Glendower too!”

Adam grimaced deeply before catching himself, and it made Ronan’s sadistic grin widen. It was always fun for him to hear about Gansey’s rants being told to other people. Having been friends with Gansey for five years, Ronan was almost able to tune out the ramblings. Other people weren’t.

“He spoke for ten minutes straight about Glendower’s ability to pass his racquet from hand to hand while playing. I don’t think he breathed!”

Ronan nodded. That was Gansey. “And did he mention that Glendower was named after a-”

“Welsh king! He started talking about symbolism! And reincarnation!”

“Well, rest assured that it’s only the beginning. Maybe one day he’ll show you his powerpoint.”

Adam groaned, and Ronan smirked, lying back on his bed and covering his face with one of his arms. He expected Adam to shut up now that he had said his piece, but a few moments later, he spoke again.

“Are you going to skip practice?” Adam asked him.

“No,” Ronan said automatically. Of course he wasn’t going to skip practice. He’d _thought_ about it before, because Gray was an idiot who couldn’t possibly come up with something to challenge him, but he’d never just decided not to go. He liked practicing with Gansey and Noah, the way they had back at Aglionby. He liked watching Blue yell at people to run laps. He even liked playing with Declan and Matthew. Well, he didn’t need to go to practice to do that, but still.

“Why do you even go if it does nothing for you?”

Ronan permitted himself a single eyeroll. “Maybe I need the exercise.”

“We have a gym.”

“Do you _want_ me not to go?” Ronan demanded. For someone who had just gotten pissy at him for skipping class, Adam seemed oddly intent on convincing him he didn’t need to go to to practice.

“No,” Adam told him. A beat later, he said, “I’m just trying to get a read on you.”

Ronan looked at him, studying Adam’s face. It was earnest and wary. Ronan took a breath and let it out slowly, through his teeth.

“Don’t waste your time,” he said. “I’m not something you can figure out.”

  
***

It was the last practice before their first game, so of course Declan was all worked up about it. The second Matthew and Ronan were done changing, he was pulling them off to the side of the court to talk.

“I got a peek of Coach’s files, and I know who we’re up against.”

“We haven’t gotten to hear Gansey’s plan yet,” Matthew reminded him mildly.

Ronan looked at him. “He’s going to put us on first. He always does. And he plans on having Noah replace you for the third quarter. He won’t want Adam playing striker at that time, or last quarter - probably not first, either. That means he’s going to take one of us off during second.”

“Probably me,” Declan said. “Gansey’s going to assume that he’ll work better with you since you’re roommates.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“It doesn’t make that much sense,” Matthew chimed in, “to take you off during second. You won’t be tired. If anything, he should take one of you off during third, and find a different time for me.”

“It’s because he doesn’t know how Adam plays yet,” Ronan informed him. “Once he sees how he works with me, he’ll switch him with Declan. And then when he’s sure he’ll last, he’ll change things around.”

“I’ll bet he’s going to make us run dynamic practices today. He needs to see who Blue works best with, too.”

“It’s mostly for Adam, though. Maybe if he had actually played on a _team_ recently, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“We’re just going to have to deal with it,” Declan said. “Hopefully, we won’t have to deal with his slack for too long. Anyway, if that play turns out to be real, then Ronan and I are up against Carter and Harrington for the first half. Gray’s notes said that they’ll probably bring on Grith and Diravo for the second half, but I don’t think they will. The stats say that Grith has a better blocking record, but Haron’s faster. They’ll want that if they’re up against us.”

“But we don’t know if _they_ know that,” Matthew told him. “Are they smart enough to figure that out?”

Declan shrugged. “Just be prepared for either of them. They play differently, too. Grith prefers his right side, but Haron leans towards his left. Grith will dive for a ball, but Haron tries his best to stay on his feet.”

“What if they take Diravo off instead?” Ronan asked.

Declan shook his head. “I doubt it. Diravo plays with both hands. Not well, I’ll give you that, but he can. It’s pretty obvious they’ll want him on to close any gap during the last quarter.”

Declan turned to Matthew. “You’re up against Cavanaugh, Fleck, and Rinaldi. Maybe Selmner. I’ll watch some of their tapes with you tonight so you can see where they shoot.”

Matthew nodded.

“As for us,” he said to Ronan. “Their backliners are fast, but they don’t have enough coordination. If we confuse them, they won’t be able to team up against us. So, a lot of passes before we shoot, run around them, check if we have to. Anything to throw them off.”

“How likely are our shots?”

“Multiple passes will give us less of them, but once they’re intimidated we should start making up for that. They’ve got two big guys, so we have to make sure we’re not center on them. The goalie’s alright, but from the tapes I’ve watched, he depends a lot on the backliners. Without them, he’ll feel vulnerable, probably start leaning towards one side. He favours his left.”

Ronan nodded in understanding before turning his head towards the sound of Coach Gray’s whistle blowing.

“Bring it in, Ravens!” he called.

The three brothers made their way over to the center of the court, where Gray was gathering the rest of the team in a huddle. Well, it was a sorry excuse for a huddle. More like a clump.

Gray brandished the clipboard that Ronan recognized as his notes. “I’ve been doing some research on the Wolves, which many of you know is the team we are up against in two days! Now, you’re going to want to listen to this if you don’t want to look like an idiot on court.”

Ronan glanced over and saw Parrish standing with Gansey and their friends. All of them were paying attention - Gansey more so than most of them, but that was because he was Gansey, and he thought Exy was everything that was good and right in the world. Adam, surprisingly, was just as enraptured. His eyes were trained on Coach Gray, and he subtly nodded along to everything he said.

Coach Gray went on to cover the stats of the Wolves - nothing that Declan hadn’t already mentioned. He told them their _own_ team’s stats, their flaws to improve upon, their strengths - nothing Ronan hadn’t already noticed during practice and last year’s games. He told them who they would all probably face.

“... and for second half they’re most likely going to put on Grith and Diravo,” he told Declan.

Declan nodded noncommittally. If Gray noticed his reaction, he didn’t show it.

“Their backliners are pretty big, too. So, you’ll have to get the ball around them, not over them.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. He probably _could_ get the ball over their heads if he wanted to - he was a pretty tall guy himself. But he wasn’t going to mess up any plays just out of spite. _Feelings_ had no place in a game. Well, at least not enough to blur your judgment. Passion, but not recklessness. Loyalty, but not smothering. Teamwork, but not codependency. Trust your instincts… so long as they’re good ones.

That was what his father had taught him. That was what Declan enforced. That was what Coach Gray just couldn’t get a handle on.

Ronan glanced over at Declan, and decided something silently. They would plan out more plays later. The ones that Coach Gray would never be able to think up for them.

Ronan zoned out for most of the meeting, keeping one ear open for anything interesting or useful. Nothing applied.

Moments after Coach Gray blew his whistle, Parrish was bounding towards him.

“You think that whole thing was stupid, don’t you?” he asked shrewdly.

“I think…” he made eye contact with Adam, “that I don’t need to answer your questions.”

Adam frowned at him. Ronan walked away.

Sure enough, that day’s practice was all about dynamics. Coach Gray switched members of the team around to see who worked best with who. Most people figured it was pointless; there were certain pairings that just _fit_ and no one really wanted to mess with them. Tad and Henry both had styles that were like reading from an Exy: How-To Guide… if the book was upside down. But they worked well together. Noah and Gansey had been dealers together for years; they knew their stuff, and they _liked_ each other.

The Lynch brothers were self-explanatory. They didn’t necessarily _need_ to work well with anyone else on the team - they could carry slack and run a marathon with it - but they did.

Ronan knew Gansey like the back of his hand, too. When they were on court together, it was chemistry, an easy back and forth between two people whose lives had been devoted to the same sport.

That was why having to play with Adam was like someone sneaking into Ronan’s house and moving everything two inches to the left.

Adam wasn’t _bad_ , necessarily. He was just new. His entire experience with the sport was recreational, played with shoddy equipment and the stupid notion that “everyone’s a winner”. He’d never known what it was like to play with a team, to strategize, to coordinate, to have a goal and to fight tooth and nail to achieve it. He’d never _competed_. Which was why Ronan, who had never in his life _not_ competed, found it difficult to get a read on him.

When Ronan swerved left in a trained maneuver, Adam veered right out of instinct, to put space between them and the backliners. Ronan could appreciate instinct, he himself worked primarily on it as well, but he only really valued it when it was good. The play made sense - Adam had seen that if he went right, then there was a gap the backliners couldn’t fill, and more room for him to play without getting surrounded. Declan, however, would have seen that by going straight he would create an angle the backliners wouldn’t be able to defend themselves against, and the ball would go from the backliner’s hands to his to Ronan’s before he could be stopped. Gansey would have known that by pulling back and trusting Ronan to get the ball, he would be in a better position to catch it and bring it across the court.

Adam’s instinct was good, but it wasn’t good enough.

Adam was better with him than with Declan, though, that was for sure. Once again, he wasn’t _bad_ , and it wasn’t like Declan couldn’t carry his weight, or that he hadn’t played with people below his skill level either. Declan just had this annoying habit of pointing out everyone’s faults. It was to “help them improve”, apparently.

“Your footwork is clunky,” he told Tad. “Focus on that during drills.”

“I don’t have to tell you that you need to make up for your height,” he said to Blue. “Work on getting around people quicker.”

On a particularly bad day he would simply pinch the bridge of his nose and say something along the lines of, “Stop. Just stop. Go somewhere I can’t see you and make no noise.”

To Adam, he tried to make up for every year he hadn’t been there to criticize him.

“You work on instinct, which is only helpful when your quick thinking is _good_. You need to look ahead and see where your decisions will lead you. This game is like chess, not ping pong. Got it? Oh, and you lean too much to your left when you throw.”

So it wasn’t a surprise when Coach Gray finally announced the preferred pairings for games - featuring: Ronan Lynch and Adam Parrish.

“Don’t let him mess you up,” Declan told him.

“Don’t screw it up,” Ronan echoed to Adam.

Adam nodded, and Ronan knew that they were done. The next time they’d be playing together was in their game against the Wolves.

_God, please let us win._

***

Ronan only learned the minute they began the trip to the Wolves’ home court that the team was sharing a bus with the cheerleaders. That meant he had to spend four hours in a confined space with-

“Brian,” he whispered. The very name gave him the uncontrollable urge to roll his eyes.

He pulled a squawking Noah into the seat beside him, creating a barrier between himself and the aisle and making sure no one else could sit with him. This was fine. This was good. Gansey and Blue were in the seat diagonal from him. Declan and Matthew were two seats behind him. He would be content sitting beside Noah for the next four hours. This was-

Parrish sat in the seat in front of him, across from Gansey and Blue.

That was fine. Parrish wasn’t actually stupid enough to pick speaking to Ronan over speaking to their other, more palatable friends. That was obviously why he had chosen that seat instead of the one beside Noah and him. It would be ok-

Brian sat down beside Parrish.

Ronan looked behind him to see Declan quirking a brow at him and Matthew sending him very clear ‘What are you doing? Get over here!’ looks. Ronan contemplated just how offended Noah would be if he changed seats right then and there. He decided Noah would probably be chill about it, and moved to get up, when Ashley oh-so-daintily plopped herself down into the seat beside Declan and Matthew. A group of other cheerleaders followed their queen bee and arranged themselves in every single seat between Ronan and his brothers.

He groaned.

He leaned in to talk to Noah, but Noah had apparently figured it was a great time to call his sisters.

“Oh, don’t you fucking dare abandon me,” Ronan growled.

Noah paused right as his phone dialed up to look at him innocently. “What? Nat wants to know how I’m doing. I told her I’d call.” And then Natalia picked up and Noah switched languages, which meant that Ronan was on his own.

Adam turned around in his seat to talk to him. “Hey, what language is he speaking?”

“Polish,” Ronan grunted.

Adam nodded thoughtfully and turned back around, satisfied with the answer. For a moment, Ronan almost felt sorry for him. Everyone on the team knew that if you spoke in any close proximity to Brian Stevens, then you were doomed. It was like when teachers called for volunteers. You had to keep your head down, your eyes averted, and make no sudden sounds or movements or else you’d be picked.

“Hi,” Ronan heard Brian introduce himself, as if on cue.

He himself had never quite been able to tune Brian out. And he was able to tune _a lot of people_ out. There was just something about his slightly nasally, pretentious, obnoxiously _hipster_ voice that grated on every fucking one of Ronan’s nerves. Even when he wasn’t listening to what Brian was saying, he could still feel his annoying presence, and have a pretty good idea of what he was talking about.

“... See, there was always this notion that guys can’t be cheerleaders. If they are, then obviously they have to be gay. That’s just such a stupid stereotype, don’t you think? And so, one day, I told myself ‘Brian. You’ve got to do something about this.’ And I decided that I, a straight male, would become a cheerleader! To make a statement, of course.”

“That’s pretty admirable of you.”

_Ugh._

“Why, thank you. Really, all the mockery and sneering have only made me see even more why this is a necessary step against discrimination. I don’t know why everyone’s not doing it. Well, actually I _do_ know why everyone’s not doing it!”

Brian laughed his irritating, cartoon-aristocrat laugh.

Ronan turned to Noah. “SAVE ME!” he mouthed.

Noah quirked an eyebrow at him, and covered his phone with his hand to whisper, “It’s not like he’s talking to _you_. Why don’t you just listen to your music?”

“ _Why don’t you just listen to your music?”_ Ronan mimicked in a higher-pitched impression of Noah’s voice as he searched for his headphones. They weren’t around his neck, so they should be in his… “They’re in my backpack,” he informed Noah. “And my backpack is in the storage compartment.”

Noah shrugged neutrally and continued his conversation.

“You and your sister better not be the type to have four hour conversations,” he grumbled, turning away. Maybe if he looked out the window for the entirety of the trip, he would be able to ignore Brian’s verbal attacks on his sanity.

Fuck. He was talking about peach jam.

_Adam_ was talking to him about peach jam.

Brian, who had yet to understand just how much Ronan wanted to leave him alone in the wilderness on a daily basis, turned around in the seat, propping himself up on his arms to look at him.

_No. Please no._

“Hey, man,” Brian said cheerfully. “You lived on a farm, didn’t you? Did you ever grow peaches?”

“No.” He turned back to the window.

Brian kept talking. “Really? Did you ever grow fruit?”

“Yes.”

“What kinds?”

Ronan ignored him.

“You know, my mother, she makes these amazing fruit preserves. Jams, jellies, syrups… I always loved them until I found out what kind of sugar she uses! Cane sugar bought from underpaid child workers! So, obviously, I’ve had to stop eating my mother’s baking. It was the right thing to do.”

Ronan continued ignoring him.

“Did _your_ mother ever make fruit preserves?”

_That’s it._ Ronan turned to him, giving him his most intense stare, the one he saved for coaches and annoying reporters.

“No?”

Ronan turned the stare up a notch, bordering a full on glare.

“Um… Is that a yes?”

Ronan said nothing, but kept staring at him, never breaking eye contact. That was the trick, really. Intimidation was basically just a staring contest. Whoever broke eye contact first admitted defeat, and Ronan _hated_ admitting defeat. He watched as Brian the Oblivious slowly shrank back into his seat under the weight of Ronan’s gaze. His attempts at chatter became more stammering and far between until he said, “I’ll just…” and plopped back down, out of Ronan’s sight.

Adam glared at him. _‘Why couldn’t you have been nicer to him?’_ he argued through his expressions. _‘He was just trying to make conversation!’_

Ronan allowed himself to roll his eyes and sent him back a _‘What did you want me to do? Yell at him to go away?’_ look.

“He’s a nice guy,” Adam whispered harshly, making sure he wasn’t overheard by his seatmate.

“He’s a ‘nice guy’,” Ronan whispered back. “And also a hipster.”

“So?”

“He drinks tea out of a bottle. I can’t be expected to take him seriously.”

Adam rolled his eyes and plunked back into his own seat, evidently done with Ronan. He began his conversation with Brian again, possibly out of interest, possibly out of sympathy. Brian picked up on the exchange quickly, regaining his mojo. _See?_ Ronan wanted to tell Adam. Brian was at least resilient, Ronan had to give him that. Or maybe he was just thick-skulled… Whatever. He would bounce back from Ronan’s icy treatment, which meant that Ronan had no qualms with treating him that way.

Within five minutes, the conversation was in full swing and up to its full potential in being hard to block out.

_Just three and a half more hours…_

  
Apparently, against popular belief, Noah wasn't actually able to hold a four hour conversation with his sister over the phone. He _was_ , however, able to hold a _two and a half_ hour conversation with her. It probably wasn't just one sister, though. Ronan figured it was more of a tag team situation - the two of them switching out whenever they had something to say and generally making the exchange bilingual and twice as long.

At least the torture was over.

They had finally arrived at William Hatford University, and now the insanity of the bus turned into pre-game mayhem. Coach Gray was checking his clipboard every five seconds, probably trying to feel important. Gansey had that “I'm not crazy, I'm an Exy player” look on his face, all wide eyed and grinning. The backliners were being loud about something - it was hard to tell whether they were arguing or agreeing with each other - but Ronan knew that was their way if pepping themselves up.

Adam looked like a deer in the headlights… but a happy one, Ronan presumed.

He could see that Declan was itching to pull him and Matthew off to the side to meet up, but Coach Gray kept on making everyone unload gear and move it to the change room they had been given.

“We'll be fine, Dec,” Matthew said as he passed them with a bag of towels.

“It's not us I'm worried about,” Declan grumbled.

That was a lie. Declan was _always_ worried about them - paranoid, really. About their game, their safety, their reputation, their future. There was always something, and if he didn't have something he was worrying about, than it was because he was more preoccupied with another issue.

“It's Parrish, isn't it?” Ronan asked as he dropped his bag onto one of the benches, Coach Gray be dammed.

Declan sighed, rubbing his temples. “You haven't had enough time to practice with him - to get used to the way he plays. He doesn't have team tactic, he's never competed, he's entirely new to the NCAA setting. I'm afraid it just won't work.”

“We'll make it work.”

Declan nodded. It was the only response, to push past the inconveniences and the liabilities and just play the game.

“When’s the meeting, anyway?”

Declan looked at his watch and groaned. “Now. We should go.”

Ronan huffed, but followed Declan into the common’s area, dragging Matthew along by the hood of his sweater when they passed him. The rest of the team was filing in from the other door, carrying their own bags. Ronan moved to one of the couches and sat down, his brothers on one side of him, and Gansey in the chair on the other.

“Now!” Coach Gray yelled. “We have an hour and a half before the game starts. We don’t want to waste a second of that time, so listen up. First, go and get yourselves into your gear and then meet me on the court. We’ve been given that space for our warm up while the Wolves use the track field. After that, we’ll have our huddle and then the game is on. Any questions?”

There weren’t any.

“Good. Now go.”

The team filed out through the door that lead to the change rooms. Ronan smirked and gave Blue a pat on the head before she began her lonely path to the female one. She glared at him, but he decided to consider it as friendly. She was smiling when she started walking.

Putting on gear was second nature for Ronan, he didn’t have to think about it. The equipment itself had changed over the years - the size, the make, the sponsor - but no matter what difference there was, it was always the same process. The pads had the same straps. The neck guard came on before the helmet. The shoes were done up and double checked for security before going out on the court. It had been like that since Ronan was five.

He, Matthew and Declan were always done first. It wasn’t that the others were slow in any way, it was simply that the brothers knew this part of the game as muscle memory. There were no jittery fingers or self-doubt. It was just them putting on their equipment, the way they had for almost fifteen years. The real challenge happened on the court.

They met on the far end of the court, off to the side. They weren’t really nervous, not in the wracked way that newbies were nervous. They were… agitated, in the way that people who had spent their whole lives doing one thing became agitated when they were about to present themselves in front of many people. They could do it, and they knew that. And that was why it was so much worse when they lost.

“Have any of the plans changed?” Ronan asked, getting straight to the point.

Declan shook his head. “No. Not that I’ve seen, at least. Do you think you’ll be able to work with Parrish?”

Ronan shrugged, which was kind of difficult in shoulder pads and a neck guard. “I have to. He’s new, that’s for sure, but this is the first game. Maybe he’ll pull through. If he doesn’t, we should have the fourth quarter to pull it all together.”

“I hope so.” He turned to Matthew. “You remember where they all shoot?”

Matthew grinned and nodded. “Yup! Under stress, Fleck goes left, bottom corner. Rinaldi goes upper right. Cavanaugh goes upper left, same as Selmner. Other than that, I should be able to just tell.”

Declan patted his shoulder. “Good job. Okay, both of you, we’ve got five minutes tops before Coach calls us over to huddle, so we have to make this quick. I know that last year we didn’t make it to finals. Shit went down, and the whole team fell apart. But we’re not settling. This year, we have a new chance. It’s going to be hard, what with half the team dropping out, but we can pull it together with what we have; us. That’s what matters, that if worst comes to worst we have each other’s backs and we play the game.

This is the first game of the season, and it’s a test. It shows us what we’re doing right, what we have to work on, and who we have to kick into line if they’re not pulling their weight. It’s not up to us to carry six other people on our backs, but it damn well _is_ up to us to do our best. We’ve got this.”

“Let’s make dad proud,” Ronan announced firmly.

Matthew and Declan looked to each other. “Let’s make dad proud,” they echoed.

Right on time, Gray’s whistle blew, signaling everyone over to him. As the three of them jogged over to the still-forming cluster that was their team, Matthew asked Ronan, “Do you think mom’s going to be watching?”

Ronan put on a smile, though he knew it was limp and unconvincing. “I hope so, buddy.”

Half the team hadn’t even finished walking over when they were all instructed to stretch. Blue accepted her cue and took her place at the front of the pack, leading the movements. Ronan followed most of them, but switched some of them out for similar ones from his childhood. Blue always gave him a crabby look when she saw him doing that, but she let it go quickly. She understood that he knew what stretches worked for him - that he knew what he was doing.

It also made him feel better, to go through the stretches he had grown up on. It was a comforting reminder that his past wasn’t irrelevant and that he could carry his childhood with him, even now, and have it be useful still. His father was dead, but his impression on the world wasn’t gone.

Laps went by in a blur after that. Ronan generally tried not to think too hard before games. He had spoken with his brothers, he had gone over the tapes, he had been to every practice. If there was something he could have done to prepare himself for the game, then he had already done it. There was nothing more he could do now, so going over every little thing that could go wrong would only serve to stress him out. He let his mind go blank and just _ran_ until the whistle told him to stop. He didn’t even know how many laps he did.

Gray told them to grab their racquets and some balls and just start shooting on targets. Ronan didn’t miss a single one. It was muscle memory - catch, aim, flick, catch, aim, flick…

Finally, the warm-up was over, and Coach Gray was calling them back for huddle. Out the corner of his eye, Ronan could see the spectators filing into the stadium to watch. The Wolves should be in their change room now, getting ready. Any minute now, the Ravens would be called to line up and then be shown off-court and the cheerleaders would come on to do their thing. Then the game would begin.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware,” Coach Gray announced, “this is our first game of the season! And as you may or may not know, a first game is a fresh start. It’s the beginning. From this point on, you are competing. You’re going to win some games. You’re going to lose some games. I believe, though, that we have got an honest shot at winning championships if all of you give 110% every single second you’re out there. You can do this. There’s no time better than the beginning to start winning, so give me your all. Now get your asses out there and play like you mean it!”

Gansey stuck his hand in the middle of the huddle and waited for everyone to do the same.

“Let’s do this!” he yelled.

Everybody let out a deafening whoop of excitement, and then lined up, waiting for the announcer to tell the teams to face off. They took their cue when it came, streaming steadily onto the court. Ronan faced Jonathan Pyle, one of the Wolves’ starting strikers. Not everyone on the opposite team had someone to stand across from; the Wolves’ team had fourteen players, while the Ravens made do with nine, the bare minimum. Ronan stared at Pyle intensely, keeping his face void of emotion. The other striker didn’t flinch at his expression, but he certainly wasn’t trying to one up him when it came to intimidation.

They shook hands and went off court again.

Ronan sat beside Gansey while the cheerleaders did flips and tried to rile up the crowd. “How are you feeling?” he asked his friend. “Nervous?”

Gansey let out a small, cheerless laugh. “I have nothing to be worried about. I’m not leaving this bench.”

Ronan took ahold of his shoulder and pulled him to face him. “It’s for the best and you know that. You need to-”

“Heal, yes, yes. I’m aware.” Gansey frowned a little, a look of negativity that he rarely showed to his friends, and never to strangers. “I’m also aware that until then, I’m a liability.”

“Don’t say that,” Ronan said severely. “You’re what’s keeping this team together. You’re practically the coach with all you do. Gray just carries around a clipboard and shouts the orders that I _know_ you wrote up in the sports office. Without you, this team would fall apart, and don’t try to argue with me on that, because it’s exactly what happened last year.”

Gansey reached up to rub his hands over his face, before realizing that he was wearing a helmet. He was off-court, with a very small chance of even being _called_ to play, but Ronan had a feeling that he wasn’t going to be taking off any of his gear throughout the entire game. Whether that was out of desire to play or self protection, Ronan didn’t know. In Gansey’s messed up state, he believed it was a combination of the two.

A few minutes later the starting positions were taken. Declan stood a few yards away, on the far side of the half-court line. The home team served, and then the game was in motion.

The ball rebounded off the side of the court and into the racquet of one of the opposing strikers. Noah checked him, gaining possession of the ball, and threw it to Declan. Ronan was already running left when he saw the ball in the air, going a direction other than his own. He caught it, but tossed it back a second later, evading the backliners. He and Declan did this a few times before Ronan saw an opening and took a shot. The goalie missed and the goal lit up red, announcing a point.

The next time they got the ball back was a few minutes later, when Henry threw it from the opposite side of the court. It was a hard catch, with the distance being so large, but Ronan got it. By that time, Declan was to his right, in the perfect position to receive it. The second the ball was out of Ronan’s racquet, he felt the force of one of the opposing backliners checking him. Ronan bristled at the action, but he forced himself to calm down. The move wasn’t against the rules; it was within the two second window in which a player could check another after having released the ball. He didn’t want a yellow card.

He kept running, and passed the line of backliners, who had nearly forgotten about him in pursuit of Declan. He waited for his brother’s pass. He caught it. The second the attention focused on him, he passed it to Noah. Noah passed it back to Ronan. Ronan scored.

He tried to ignore the crowd’s cheering. It was a distraction, and nothing he hadn’t heard before. But… there was something good about the familiar sound. It was chaos, but it was known to him, it was a constant.

In the months that he had been focusing on practices and drills, Ronan had almost forgotten how _good_ it felt to play a proper game.

Almost.

In the following ten minutes, the Ravens scored another three times, having sufficiently razzled the Wolves’ defense. The score was five nothing. Ronan could have done better, but he decided to cut himself some slack. It was the first game of the season, after all.

The second quarter was about to begin, and the Wolves’ offense had gained their wits enough to at least make _some_ progress against the Raven’s defense. Awaiting a pass, Ronan watched as Noah weaved in and out between the opposing strikers. They were fast, but Noah was faster, with the highest speed on the Raven’s team, just above Matthew’s. Matthew’s reflexes were better, though. Two shots were made against the away goal, and Matthew stopped his waving at the crowd in the nick of time to block them. After the second one, he passed to his brothers.

Declan caught it, and was in the process of tossing it to Ronan when he got checked, making the ball fly out of his racquet improperly. It bounced off the wall a few feet away from Ronan, and into the possession of Carter. He threw it to Pyle, who made a lucky shot against the Raven’s goals. Matthew missed by half an inch, and the goal lit up red.

_Ugh._

_It’s not your fault,_ Ronan wanted to tell Matthew. _You’re doing well. It was a lucky shot into your blind spot._

It wouldn’t have been much consolation. To people who had been trained for perfection, comforting words were empty and riddled with reminders of failure. Matthew would put the lost goal out of his mind for the sake of efficiency and sanity, but Ronan knew it would come back to haunt him later. That’s what happened to everyone, and especially to the three brothers. Mistakes cost them more, because they had been raised never to make them. Telling Matthew that the shot had been in his blind spot was no good, because he had been trained not to have one.

Ronan gave him a single nod, and hoped it was good enough. The game went on.  
The coach waited until a few minutes after the second quarter had begun to switch Declan out for Adam, but the switch was made nonetheless. Adam hurried on, looking like a child who just got picked to be a volunteer at the circus.

It was difficult to play with him in comparison to Declan. The two brothers had been playing Exy together for so long that every single one of their moves was known to each other like the back of their hands. On the court, all of their disagreements disappeared. All their energy focused on the game, and they became what they were on the most basic level; brothers, with a shared past, and a linked future. Ronan would line up for a pass, and Declan would be in the perfect place to receive it five seconds before his plan was even visible. Declan would run to a position, and Ronan would already be covering for him before anyone could stop him.

He didn’t have that kind of chemistry with Adam.

Compared to his practically-telepathic communication with Declan, figuring out how to enable Adam’s plays was like translating morse code on the court.

In the entire quarter, Ronan made two shots. Only one of them went in. He had shot to the left, which _had_ been a strategy on the stats card, but for the wrong goalie. How could he have been so stupid? Adam made one shot that _did_ go in, and he left the court extremely pleased.

The break was only fifteen minutes long and filled mostly by Gansey making rounds and telling everyone how great they were, and by Declan telling his brothers to rest the fuck up. “Especially you, Ronan,” he said. “You’re not getting another chance to sit down until the game’s over.”

Ronan wasn’t too proud to accept the opportunity to rest his legs - which felt like they were burning, now that he wasn’t using them - but he couldn’t calm his brain down. In the next quarter, Matthew wouldn’t be on court. Noah was a better dealer than he was goalie. Adam would be playing dealer. It was a recipe for disaster.

“Declan-” he began to say, but his brother didn’t let him finish.

“I know what you’re about to say,” Declan interrupted. “But don’t worry about it. At least we’re on together.”

“Yeah…”

And then they were being called back up there for the second half.

It was a disaster.

In the first ten minutes, Blue got a yellow card for checking a player twice her size without official reason. None of the Ravens needed to ask what it was about, because when sensible Blue lost her cool, it was always about one of two things: her height or her gender. Luckily, the ref came in before she got a red card, and before a brawl broke out. The striker she’d checked had refused to punch her. Blue would easily have made him regret that.

Declan himself was angry about that, because it had resulted in them turning the ball over to the Wolves. They weren’t as stupid as they originally appeared - or at least the offense wasn’t - because they had prepared for the change in goalie. All their best strikers were on, and they gained two points before the Ravens’ backliners managed to get ahold of the ball again.

The score was at seven to three.

Tad passed it to Ronan, and he was prepared to throw it to Declan when he was greeted by the sight of Adam… in his way. He had three choices: pass to Adam, wait for Declan to find a better spot, or move himself. Declan had nowhere better to go. Ronan would get checked if he moved, or even if he stayed still a second longer. He passed to Adam.

Adam made a shot, but it was too hasty. The backliners saw it coming, and Haron caught it. He passed it down the court to the opposing strikers. Noah blocked a shot on the goal. The ball rebounded. The strikers got it again and scored.

Seven to four.

Noah passed the ball down the court. It should have rebounded off the side wall and gone to Declan, but Adam caught it in the air. Its momentum was too strong and it took him a second to regain his footing. He turned around to pass it, but he was already being checked by the backliners. Ronan ran to check Diravo, praying that Declan would be there to get the ball from where it had fallen. Declan was, but without any other option, he had to pass it back to Adam, who was in a better position to score.

Adam took a shot, but the goalie blocked it and sent it down the court again. The opposing strikers got multiple attempts at the goal, with Blue looking like she was injured and Tad overwhelmed. Noah couldn’t block them all. The Wolves got two shots in. Blue got the ball back for one second, but then she was checked, and went down. As Gray took her off court, a third shot went in.

It was the end of the third quarter, and the score was… tied.

If it wasn’t against Ronan’s beliefs, he would have murdered Adam right then and there.

The final quarter went by slightly better. Matthew was in the goal again, but Adam was still the dealer, making for a strange combination of… nothing. No shots against their goal went in. No attempts at the other team’s goal were successful. The score didn’t budge.

Adam continued to go out of his way to get the ball. He obviously had some sort of need for attention. Or some deluded notion that if he hoarded the ball, they would score more frequently. Or both.

Ronan was this close to checking him himself.

_Why the fuck isn’t he passing?!_ Ronan thought to himself as Adam charged towards the goal again. The goalie blocked his shot and sent it down the court. Henry caught it and sent it up to Declan.

_Finally. Now, just get somewhere Parrish can’t block you._

Declan caught the ball and threw it to Ronan. Once Declan was in a better position, Ronan threw it back. Immediately, he was checked and sent to the floor. He waved off a ref that had coiled up, ready to spring onto the court in the event of a fight. Ronan looked up to see that Declan wasn’t lined up right for a shot, he had been expecting another pass. He scrambled to his feet, but it was too late. He watched as the ball was thrown to Adam.

_Declan’s in the right spot now, just throw it back to him. No. Don’t run. Don’t-_

Parrish got checked with the ball, losing possession.

Another stalemate happened, lasting until the final minutes of the game. If the Wolves got the ball and scored a goal, then the Ravens were done for. If the score stayed tied, then they would go into overtime, and there was no way the team could last through that. Maybe if they got a shoot-out…

No. It was too risky.

Ronan checked the clock. There was only a minute left.

He watched as the opposing strikers took another, desperate shot on the goal. Matthew blocked it.

_Come on, Matt. Pass it to me._

Ronan and Matthew locked eyes, and before he knew it, his feet were rushing to a place where he could better receive the ball. Matthew chucked it at the wall, and Ronan caught it on the rebound. He turned on his heel, faintly aware of the time ticking down on the clock, and ran to the Wolves goal. Ten steps. No pass.

He made it right in front of the backliners and made a shot straight over them, the ball barely leaving his racquet before he was knocked down.

Ronan watched helplessly as his ball sailed towards the goal. In the corner of his eye, he could see the countdown, showing the whole stadium when the game would be over. 10… 9… 8…  
The Wolves’ goalie dove for the ball. That was his mistake. Never dive for a ball you don’t need to, especially not in the heat of the moment. You’ll have too much momentum and not enough control over where you’re blocking. The shot went in. The goal lit up red, and the buzzer announced a point.

By the time the Goalie had regained the possession of the ball and threw it down the court, the final buzzer went off. Ronan collapsed in relief.

The Ravens had won. By a single point.

His team cheered and ran into the middle like a giant mob, hugging and clapping backs and yelling enthusiastic comments. Gansey ran on court to join them, and he seemed to be the most enthusiastic of them all, congratulating everyone. He nodded his head between Ronan and the group, but Ronan stayed where he was, about a foot away from the cheerfulness. Declan did the same. They were glad they had won, but… a _single point?_ That was too close for comfort, especially this early on in the season, before any of the real work had begun.

They detached themselves after a few minutes, when the signal came for the two teams to shake hands. The all lined up and went down the row, acknowledging their opponents. Then the two teams were to break off and go to their separate change rooms to undress.

The animated chatter continued every moment of the journey to the change rooms. Blue went on about one of Henry’s saves. Noah congratulated Tad on a good move. Gansey told anyone and everyone about how well they did, and how proud he was of the team.

Everyone was so cheerful, and yet Ronan seethed. Maybe it was stupid. They had _won_ , after all. Maybe he was being a spoiled little brat who was used to the “by a landslide” wins and was taking this game for granted. He just couldn’t help it. This kind of marginal victory would have been enough for him if it was near the end of the season, when every team still going had shown their stuff and was a better match for each other. If you work yourself to blood and tears, and so does your opponent, then the smaller wins feel just as good, maybe even better. But _now?_ With the _Wolves?_ They were seventh place in the NCAA East division. They weren’t awful, but they weren’t _good_.

Adam came up to him, bubbling with excitement. “We won, Ronan! We won!”

Ronan took off his helmet, and polished it absentmindedly. “I know we won.”

In the corner of his eye, Ronan could see Declan walking with them to the change room. He knew what would happen there. His brother allowed their team to have the walk of pride to their private quarters, but the moment they reached their change room, he would remind them to not let this victory get to their heads. They still had more games to win, and they couldn’t afford to get cocky. Then, on the bus, he would proceed to tell everybody just exactly what they did wrong and where they needed to improve.

When they got into the locker room, Adam didn’t leave his side. Instead, he pressed, “Come on, Ronan, be happy for once. We won! Would it kill you to get rid of that stupid glower?”

Ronan was graciously prepared to just walk away from the guy he would much rather throw out a window when Adam said something else. In an annoyed tone, he asked, “What’s your _deal?”_

That was it.

“My _deal_ , Adam,” he snapped, “is _you!”_

“Ronan-” Noah began, but Ronan didn’t let him finish his warning.

“Because you’re here, dancing around like you just won the goddamn lottery and not even _thinking_ about what just happened on the court.”

“I know what happened. We won.”

“By one point. And that may be good in your lackluster book, but it’s not to me, and though nobody else is admitting it, it’s not good to anyone on this team. Oh, and Declan, don’t bother with him. I’ve got this one.”

Adam stared at him, unimpressed, which only fueled Ronan’s rage.

“If you want to know why I’m not happy, here it is. You may be fast, but you’re so fucking cocky about it that you’re messing yourself up. Your footwork is shoddy. You take too long to aim. You’re so caught up in the _thrill_ of being on a team like a _‘real live athlete’_ that you’ve done nothing short of a wonderful job in turning this into the Adam Show. You run around like you can carry the world on your shoulders when you should be _passing_ and _working with us_ , but you won’t admit that you don’t know how to _do_ that, because you’re too afraid of reminding us where you come from. But don’t worry about that. None of us have _forgotten_ where you come from, and we never will so long as you keep playing like you’re still in a recreational league with a bunch of fucking six year olds.”

He stepped into Adam’s space, up close in personal. Adam stared at him, obviously uncomfortable, but too afraid to look away and seem like a coward. “What’s my deal, Adam? It’s the fact that because of you, we were _this close_ to losing our first game, and you are pretending you did nothing wrong.”

He stepped away, and took a look around the room. Everybody was staring at him like he had just taken a box full of priceless artifacts and proceeded to smash them all on the ground. Even Declan, who, on one of his grumpier days, would have acted almost exactly like Ronan just had, gaped at him. _Hypocrite_ , Ronan wanted to tell him. He had been harsh, sure, but it was nothing that wasn’t true. It was nothing that Declan didn’t tell people on the daily, albeit a bit more diluted, and framed as helpful. At least Ronan didn’t go around all the time shouting at people like his brother did.

And then it occurred to him that that was _exactly_ why everyone was gawking at him. Not only because of the crushing way he had laid everything bare, but also because Ronan didn’t usually _bother_ to yell at people about their performance, though he certainly could.

If Matthew told you what you did wrong, it was because he genuinely cared about you, because he wanted to show that he valued you enough to be honest. If Declan told you what you did wrong, it was for the greater good, it was because he wanted to help you improve and therefore strengthen the team - it was nothing personal. If Ronan - the apathetic, the icy, the detached - told you what you did wrong… it was because you _fucked up_ , and he wasn't letting you go unaware of it.

And that was ten times worse than any other criticism.

He left Adam in the middle of the change room, and went to get out of his gear.

  
“I’ve never seen you roast someone like that,” Noah commented solemnly as they got off the bus.

“Of course you have. I get mad at people all the time,” Ronan told him.

“Not the way you got mad at Adam.”

“I yelled at Tad last week.”

“That was because he threw a ball at your head.”

“There was the Henry thing last year,” he said, referring to the time he had shut down Henry’s haughty stance in front of every member of Monmouth’s Exy Committee.

“We lost that game, and everyone was upset about it, he was just putting up a front. And I don’t think anyone blamed you for that either. The entire team was a mess.”

Ronan turned to face him, about to tell him that if he wanted to chew Ronan out for being mean, then he could go straight ahead. It wouldn’t change anything. He didn’t get the chance to do that, though, because Gansey appeared from behind him and cut him to the chase.

“Now, was that really necessary, Ronan?” he chided. “It was his _first game_ and you couldn’t have let him enjoy it?”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “And let him keep messing up? No way. And before you interrupt me, you can’t honestly say that the way he was playing wasn’t screwing us over.”

Gansey’s brow furrowed. “I think his playing style was… unconventional. But you could have told him that after we got back. And in private. And about five tones nicer.”

“ _Nice_ isn’t going to get anyone anywhere, Gansey,” he retorted. “He needed to hear it and be knocked down a couple pegs, and that’s exactly what I did. He’s going to hear stuff worse than that if he’s going to be an Exy player, anyway.”

Gansey sighed. Not in the way that meant he was accepting defeat, but in the way that meant he knew he would have a much worse time if he tried to go any further with the conversation. “Fine. Come on, we’re heading back to my room for Truth or Dare.”

Ronan nodded. Post-win Truth or Dare was a tradition that he knew none of them were breaking anytime soon. “Will Precious Parrish be there?” he asked.

“Yes. Be civil.”

“I’m being perfectly fucking civil, thank you very much.”

Gansey rolled his eyes, and the three of them made their way to his room wordlessly.

  
Ronan was pretty sure that Adam was ignoring him. Not in the “I hate you and every time you say something to me, I’m going to pretend it was the wind” kind of way. He had a feeling that if he asked Adam a direct question, then Adam would answer it. But he would do it in a snippy manner, and then he would continue to pretend Ronan didn’t exist.

_Good luck with that, Parrish. I’m pretty hard to ignore._

The game started off easily, with everyone except Ronan being pleased about their win, and everyone except Adam feeling unoffended. Ronan had accepted the “Truth or Dare” first, and was immediately dared to prank call someone. He wasn’t too chicken to do it, but he made the point clear that he wasn’t going to lie, even over the phone.

He eventually came to the decision that ordering 30 cases of straight-from-the-manufacturers mustard and sending it to Brian’s address served as a good enough prank call.

Then, he turned to Blue. “Truth or Dare, Maggot?” he asked her, eyes glinting. He already knew her response.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to sneak into Cheng’s room and take one sock from each of his pairs.”

“You are so on.” Blue leapt up out of her seat and made for the door, exiting quietly. A few minutes later, she was back, displaying a hand full of socks and a devious smile. “Ten bucks says he’ll use this to petition against teams having access to each other’s rooms.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Gansey told her.

Blue took her seat again, and looked at Noah.

“Truth or Dare, Noah?” Blue asked him, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Truth.”

“Okay… Tell us your most awkward moment.”

Noah looked at her for a moment, and then let out a small laugh. “This one’s pretty recent, actually.” He laughed again, almost a giggle. “My sister, Addie, came out as a lesbian… on my birthday.”

“What?” Adam cried. Ronan couldn’t tell if his shock came from the _lesbian_ part or the _on his birthday_ part.

“Yep,” Noah confirmed. “And I’m born on Christmas Eve, too, so she was pretty much dropping the bomb on two major family celebrations.”

“Of all times, why then?” Gansey asked.

Noah shrugged. “She said that she wanted to do it on my birthday because no one could get mad at her on my birthday. It’s ‘sacred’ or whatever. The family can’t have a fight on my birthday, and they can’t throw her out on Christmas.”

“Were they going to throw her out?”

He shook his head dismissively. “No. See, my family doesn’t really talk about things like sex or sexuality or anything like it, really. We don’t even talk about feelings as a group. It’s either in private or it’s important enough for a family meeting. But my parents are cool, they’re just… reserved. I mean, my mom bought me a skate ramp for my birthday, and my dad let me dye my hair blue, so… They were uncomfortable, but not because she’s a lesbian. It was because they were _not prepared_ for that kind of conversation. It was _really_ awkward.”

“How awkward?”

“Well, we were all sitting in the living room, and I was about to open my last present, and then she just starts _staring_ at all of us. Didn’t say anything for like five minutes. So, there’s this weird silence, and then she just blurts out ‘I’m a lesbian’. And then there was more silence because mom pretty much malfunctioned, and dad was sort of just staring at her like he was buffering. And Nat was staring at me, and I was staring at Addie, and she looked like she was about to explode.

I’m pretty sure that lasted literally ten minutes. And then mom just says ‘thank you for telling us’ and _pats her hand_ , because obviously she couldn’t be anything but a social robot at that time. So I told her I loved her, and Nat agreed, and Dad said it was an interesting factoid. His words. And he tells us that one in ten teenagers are gay. More staring ensues. And then we had dessert.”

“That does sound really awkward.”

“I didn’t even open my last present,” Noah mused softly, shaking his head.

Then he turned to Adam. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

Noah got an evil look in his eye. “I dare you… to hold hands with Ronan for ten whole minutes.”

Both Ronan and Adam scrambled to the edges of the beds they were each sitting on in an attempt to get as far away from each other as possible. He hadn’t consciously tried to do that, but the instinct had hit him quickly and intensely. He did _not_ want to hold hands with Adam. Ronan Lynch was no chicken, but the mere idea of being that close to Parrish, especially after the day’s events, was extremely unpleasant.

Blue cackled at the force field that appeared to have gone off between them. “Afraid, boys?” she asked deviously.

“No,” the two of them answered at the same time.

“Then hold hands,” she continued. “You know the loser of the game has to do the _Ultimate Dare_.”

Ronan glowered. The Ultimate Dare was another one of their traditions. Whoever chickened out of their truth or dare first, or was unable to complete whatever was demanded of them, had to put themselves at the mercy of the entire group, and do the biggest, most outrageous dare of the night. It was usually Ronan’s favourite part of the night, but then again, he was usually the one _coming up with the dare_ , not following it through. The first couple times they played, Gansey always ended up having to complete the Ultimate Dare, because he had a habit of picking truth, and would always lose the moment he refused to divulge the location of his scrapbook. He caught on after that, and picked dare, and that in itself was another fun thing to exploit.

Ronan didn’t think he was one to feel ashamed of doing ridiculous things, but he still didn’t want to chant and walk in a circle around the flagpole for an hour.

“Isn’t there a rule against forcing people to be a part of someone else’s dare?” he asked petulantly.

“No, I don’t think so,” Blue said with far too much innocence. “Noah?”

Noah shook his head, the evil, devilish look never leaving his face. He was having way too much fun.

The two of them stared at him intently, and Gansey joined in, evidently curious as to what they would do. That was only part of it, Ronan knew. Gansey just didn’t want to lose the game again, and he was not above hoping for this shot.

“Fine,” Ronan announced gruffly. He looked to Adam, daring him with his eyes to be too afraid.

“I’m in,” Adam stated defiantly.

Adam moved over to Gansey’s bed, where Ronan was currently sitting, and took his hand. It was the angriest, most insolent hand-holding that Ronan had ever encountered in his life.

“So, it’s my turn then?” Adam asked coolly. “Gansey. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” Gansey said, following everyone’s expectations.

Adam smirked. “I dare you to go out onto the square and make out with Blue for at least five minutes straight. In front of everyone.”

Ronan smacked his forehead with his free hand at the same time that Gansey stated clearly and concisely, “No.”

Adam looked shocked. Noah was shifting around in his seat uncomfortably. Blue’s face was beet red, and she turned away from the rest of the group, anxiously playing with a strand of her hair. Gansey looked like he might implode, which was a strange sight on him.

“No?” Adam asked incredulously. The unspoken _‘But she’s your girlfriend!’_ could be heard loud and clear.

“No,” Gansey echoed. “I’ll accept my dare tomorrow.”

“That’s not necessary,” Ronan told him. With a glare in Adam’s direction, he added, “The dare wasn’t fair.”

“Why don’t we just call it a night?” Noah suggested awkwardly.

Everyone except Adam nodded. “I think I’m just gonna… go home,” Blue said in discomfort. The red blush of her face hadn’t lessened any. “You guys are off the hook,” she told Ronan and Adam as she passed them. Then she disappeared through the door, letting it _thud_ shut behind her.

Even without Blue there, Ronan could feel the uneasy mood of the room resonating through every single one of his bones. A part of him knew that Adam hadn’t known what he was doing, that he had just assumed that since Blue and Gansey were a couple they kissed often, not knowing that they weren’t really conventional about their relationship. Still, the amount of unpleasantness that Adam had inflicted upon his day wasn’t putting him in Ronan’s good graces.

He wondered if he should tell Adam to get the hell out so that he could talk to Gansey. He looked over at his best friend and knew that that wasn’t the way to go. Gansey was still blushing, and he had his head held up high in that way that meant he was treading through his emotional waters, and needed everyone to leave so that he could let his guard down.

_He should be better by the morning,_ Ronan thought. _He just feels like he’s been put on the spot._

“I’m out of here,” he announced, breaking away from Adam. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Gansey nodded, and Ronan took that as his cue to sweep out of the room.

Adam, unsurprisingly, stomped after him, hissing, “What the hell was that all about? What did I _do?”_

Once they were safe in their shared dorm room, behind a closed door, Ronan turned to him. “They don’t kiss,” he said.

“What?” Adam asked incredulously.

“Blue and Gansey. They don’t kiss. They’ve never kissed. They probably won’t for a long time.”

“Why not?”

Ronan shrugged, already walking away and taking his shirt off. “Blue has some rule. None of my business. If it matters so much to you, ask her.”

“No way. Did you _see_ their reactions? I’m so not bringing that up again.”

“Good plan,” Ronan told him as he climbed into bed. He turned off the lamp beside his bed, leaving his roommate in total darkness.

“Hey!” Adam protested.

“Go to fucking bed, Parrish.”

“I would if I could see it! Asshole.”

Ronan decided that wasn’t eye-roll worthy, so he just rolled over and listened to the sound of Adam stumbling around the room in search of his bed. The telltale creak of his mattress told him that he had found it. There was no “goodnight”. There was no speaking at all. The only thing that filled the room was the sound of the night and the feeling of residual anger and frustration that floated between them.

  
Once he was sure that Adam had been asleep for at least half an hour, Ronan put his shirt back on and made his way out of the room. There was a strange, peaceful feeling that came with being awake this late into the night. Nobody else was awake. It was dark enough for him to feel like no one else could see him. It was this tranquil atmosphere of being separated from the rest of the world - in a good way.

There were no expectations.

This wasn’t the only time that Ronan got out of bed at odd times. On most Wednesdays, he would practice with Gansey at night. On Mondays, he would wake up at the crack of dawn and go on a run with his brothers and then practice, just the three of them, going over the drills their father had taught them. They used to do that a lot more, back at home. Every other day they would go on a run. Every single day they would practice together. He was sure they would meet up more often once the season heated up.

Quietly, he snuck down to the court. It wasn’t really _sneaking_ , since there was no rule against him going down there at this hour. Technically, there may have been a rule against him having a key without Gray’s knowledge or permission, but he didn’t really care. Ronan had a way of making every Exy court he stepped foot on his, and the Cabeswater Arena was no different.

He didn’t bother getting into any other gear but his helmet. He wasn’t here to follow the rules. He was here to feel something. To be numb. To do something he was good at. To do something he would never be good enough at.

He was there to be an Exy player.

He didn’t do much on the days he was down there by himself. With Gansey, it was always about getting his friend comfortable with being on the court again. They checked each other until Gansey stopped flinching. They ran laps until even their over-worked brains shut the fuck up. They just _existed_ together, the way only friends truly could. With his brothers, they watched each other play and offered their opinions. They went through the drills they had grown up on, pretending that nothing had changed, but really only reminding each other that everything had. They _worked_ together, the way that only brothers truly could.

On his own, Ronan let himself bask in the feeling of no one watching him. There was no press, no brothers, no friends, no teammates. There was him, a court, some gear, and infinity.

He ran laps and timed each one. He shot at the goal - something that seemed pointless without Matthew - and gave himself smaller and smaller targets, not stopping until he hit each and every one of them. It would be better if they moved, he figured, but there was nothing to move them. He danced around cones and overtop of ladders, making himself move faster, and cleaner, and better.

Currently, he was in the middle of attempting to hit the goal without opening his eyes. Usually, the process was _catch, aim, flick_ , but now he tried to find the target as he caught the ball, then close his eyes and simply _feel_ where he wanted it to go. He had done drills like this before, but he’d never been quite satisfied with the results. He was always an inch too far to the left, or a smidge too far to the right. It was good. But not good enough.

He wasn’t fully aware of the time that was passing, but reality jolted into him when he opened his eyes post-swing to see Adam Parrish standing off to the side of the court. He rubbed his eyes to make sure that this wasn’t some sleep-deprivation-induced hallucination. Parrish was still there.

“So, this is where you go,” Adam mused.

“What?”

“When you leave in the middle of the night. I figured it was either here or some deserted parking lot.”

Ronan gawked at him. “Did you _follow me?”_

Adam smirked and shook his head. “No. I had a hunch. Plus, the door was open and the lights were on, so…”

“What the hell do you want, Parrish? Or have you just come here to pester me?”

Adam took a step towards him. “No, I want you to help me.”

Ronan’s mouth dropped open a little as he processed the words. Him. Help Parrish. He had spent a good portion of the day yelling and sniping at Adam, and having the same done right back to him. He was not in a particularly generous or benevolent mood.

“Help you? And why the fuck would I do that?”

Adam marched forward until he and Ronan were standing face to face. “Because I’ve been thinking about what you said… and you were right. I’ve never played on a real team. I don’t have the experience… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve got that right.”

Adam bit his lip at that, evidently trying to compose himself enough not to snap at Ronan. He had to give him credit for that. Most people didn’t have that kind of self-control when it came to dealing with Ronan’s attitude. “Yeah, well, whether you like it or not, I’m on your team. You can’t get rid of me, because you’ll be disqualified. You have to work with me, because you don’t have enough strikers. So, help me get better or deal with the consequences of me improvising.”

When Ronan didn’t say anything, Adam continued, “I’ll try my best, you can be sure of that. But it won’t matter if my best is still two steps behind everyone else.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and began to walk away. “Why don’t you ask Gansey? I’m sure he’d _love_ to work with you one-on-one. It would make him feel all important and shit.”

Adam followed him. “One, because Gansey is good, but you’re better. Two, because we both know Gansey would make a big deal out of it. You’re not going to do that. And three, because it’s really not _fair_ to Gansey. He’d be helping me learn, yeah, and maybe he’d feel important. But at the same time, he’d be teaching me his spot, the one _he_ can’t play, and would practically be helping me replace him.”

Ronan turned around, eyeing Adam skeptically. He was being genuine. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Adam admitted, crossing his arms. “And you know, it doesn’t really bother me.”

Ronan sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You really want my help?” Adam nodded. “Fine. But we play by my rules. You run my drills, you listen to my advice, and you don’t get all pissy about it. I’m not doing it for you, I’m only doing it so that you don’t screw up my season.”

Adam studied him for a moment, making sure that he was serious. He gave a grim nod once he was sure that everything Ronan said was legitimate. “Thanks, Lynch,” he said.

“Don’t thank me, Parrish. Meet me here, at the same time next week, and give me all you’ve got.”

After a pause, he added, “Now get off my court.”

Once he was sure Adam was gone, Ronan went back to practicing his shooting, repeating his, _aim, catch, flick_ , until he was at least semi-satisfied with himself. He didn’t know what time it was. He didn’t know how long he’d been on the court. All he knew was that it might be light out by the time he left, and that it would be worth it if he could just get this right.

Ronan Lynch was the second son of Niall Lynch.

Ronan Lynch was an Exy player.

Ronan Lynch was _not_ going to let Adam Parrish mess up his season.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to @dollopheadsandclotpoles (theboywholivednotdied) for editing this chapter slightly more than usual! 
> 
> Note: there is a reference to Palmetto State University in this chapter, but it's just a cameo. The AFTG universe is still separate.

“Keep those feet up!” Ronan yelled to Adam, who was running over a floor ladder that Ronan had laid across the court.

Adam didn’t yell anything snappy back at him, which Ronan considered progress. They had been practicing together for weeks now, and it had taken half of that time for Adam to quit retaliating against every piece of advice Ronan gave him. Now, Ronan sat against the wall of the court and watched Adam run drill after drill, appreciating the newfound silence.

“You’re lucky I’m not making you do ballet!” he shouted.

Adam stopped mid-step to stare at him. “Wait, did your dad make you do ballet?”

“No,” he answered. “Keep running.”

Thankfully, his father had never made him do ballet. His father _had_ made him learn how to box so he could defend himself better on court, but boxing was definitely more masculine than dancing - something Ronan was thankful for. He wondered if his father had never used dancing as a tool to practice agility simply _because_ it wasn’t manly. Or maybe he had seen his sons’ attempted waltzing at their church benefit and decided it was a lost cause. Ronan had disliked waltzing. He had a feeling he would dislike ballet, with all its leotards and pirouettes, even more.

Floor ladders worked just fine for him.

“Okay, you can stop now!” Ronan announced, getting up from his spot.

Adam exhaled gratefully, and bent over, bracing his upper body on his knees as he accepted the break. “Are we done?” he asked.

“No,” Ronan stated. He walked around his teammate and set up some cones, placing them about a foot away from each other. “Now, you can run around these.”

“Don’t we already do that at practice, though? I thought that the whole point of _this_ ,” Adam gestured to the space around them, “was to teach me all the things I _didn’t_ know.”

“You’re not ready for that,” Ronan told him as he studied the cones. They were evenly spaced out. “Everything that _I_ can teach you would require you to be better at the basics. I had to start with the basics, too.”

“You were five.”

“So? The point still stands.”

Adam groaned in frustration. Ronan could see that Adam was ambitious. He wanted to have the best, he wanted to be the best - or at least he wanted to be _better_. Ronan could understand that. He knew what it was like to have something to prove. And he knew what Adam was picturing when he imagined _proving_ something to himself. He was seeing Ronan teaching him his father’s famous drills, he was seeing immediate improvement, he was seeing superiority on the court and a stadium full of adoring fans. It was a nice dream. But it required a lot more time… and a lot more running around cones.

“Patience, young grasshopper,” Ronan teased as he walked back over to his spectator’s spot. “Now imagine those cones are backliners!”

***

“Adam, are you walking with me on your way to work?” Blue asked as the team washed up after practice. “Nino’s is in the same direction as Coffee Time.”

It took Adam a second to respond, suddenly becoming alert and sputtering “Huh?”. Ronan realized that he had been falling asleep against his locker. “Oh. Yeah, sure.”

“Sweet! What time’s your shift? I’ll meet you at your dorm.”

“Five. I’ll see you then.”

Noah walked out of the shower, immediately looking down to make sure he was wearing a towel when he saw Blue standing in the locker room.

“Hey, Adam,” he smiled once he had assured himself that he was properly covered. “When are we coming to that café you work at, anyway? We’re great clientele. Blue says that we’re her favourite Nino’s customers.”

Blue laughed and ruffled Noah’s damp hair. “You’re my favourite anything.” Noah looked at Adam like _‘see?’_.

Adam, on the other hand, did not look so eager. Subtly, he moved backwards, away from the group. “Um, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because I haven’t been working there that long and you guys can be a bit…”

“Loud?” Gansey offered.

“Weird?” Noah suggested.

“Crazy?” Blue said.

“Try all of the above,” Ronan grumbled. Not that he cared about the looks he got from store owners.

Adam nodded in agreement. “I know we all hang out at Nino’s, but the café is a lot more… subdued. If you wanna drop by and grab something, that’s fine, but it’s… not really a place to hang out.”

Blue held up her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. But if you wanna get me a discount on a mocha, I’ll love you forever.”

“If you get me a caramel macchiato, I’ll give you my soul,” Noah agreed, getting dressed.

Gansey gave them both a stern look. “He’s not your coffee boy.”

“No, but if he gets me that mocha, I’ll let him be anything he wants to be,” Blue teased, giving Gansey a joking look. The expression he gained in response was just classy enough to not be considered a pout.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Gansey announced, two decibels too low to be a tantrum. He grabbed his bag and began walking towards the exit of the locker room. “Let’s go.”

Ronan smirked at Gansey’s almost grumpiness, and picked up his bag as well, about to follow his friend. Noah trailed after him, moving close enough to whisper “The scrapbook’s not in the shower, just letting you know.”

Ronan turned towards him, raising an eyebrow quizzically. “Where did you think he was gonna hide it, numb nuts? The shower drain?” Noah shrugged and continued on ahead. Ronan had the weirdest friends.

He managed to walk another five steps before Adam came bounding after him.

“Hey,” Adam whispered. “Ronan.”

“What?” Ronan hissed, pushing the door aside and making his way out of the building.

“I was thinking about it and I just wanted to ask you; did you see my side pass today? Was it better than last week’s? I know we did work on passes and stuff, so-”

Ronan stopped him, placing a hand on his chest and halting him mid-step. “Okay. Let’s just get one thing straight, okay? This thing we’re doing… it stays on the court. I don’t want you trailing after me all the time, asking for advice or wanting to know my every single thought about your performance. I’m not going to pat you on the shoulder every time you make a half decent pass.”

Adam crossed his arms. “I know that.”

“Good. Because I’m doing this so that I don’t have to cover for you all the time, not for some weirdass roommate bonding time. _This_ ,” he gestured between their chests, “and _that_ ,” he motioned to the arena, “are separate.”

“Ronan! Adam!” Gansey yelled from further across the lawn, spreading his arms in confusion.

Ronan waved him off dismissively at the same time that Adam yelled “Go on! We’ll catch up with you!” Adam turned back to Ronan and said, “This isn’t fight club, you know.”

“Whatever. The rules apply. What happens in practice time stays in practice time.”

“Is that the golden rule?” Adam asked mockingly. “The first rule of practice time is do not speak about practice time?”

“The one and only,” Ronan grinned. “Now, let’s go before Gansey thinks we’ve become friends.” Adam laughed. They both ran to catch up with the rest of the group, and Ronan could tell the conversation was over. Parrish had that going for him, at least; he didn’t have to be told twice.

Gansey didn’t waste any time in asking Ronan about his private conversation. The moment Ronan had retaken his usual spot beside his friend, Gansey was leaning in to whisper, “And what was all that about? Dare I ask if you were apologizing?”

Ronan snorted. “It’s been weeks. I don’t have to apologize.”

Gansey looked at him disapprovingly. “What were you talking about, then, that you couldn’t say in front of the rest of us?”

“I was telling him to leave me alone-”

“Ronan!”

“- and that’s a lot easier when you’re not looking over my shoulder, making me be friendly.”

Gansey’s lips pursed, giving him the very ‘Dad’ appearance that Ronan so often mocked him for. “There’s nothing wrong with apologizing, Ronan.”

“There is when you’ve done nothing to apologize for,” Ronan argued, “and I haven’t.” Gansey looked like he very much wanted to argue with that statement, but he let it drop. The two of them had a general agreement; fight when it’s worth fighting over, make peace when it’s not, and if Ronan is too stubborn to budge on his opinion, make everyone’s life easier and leave it at that. Ronan firmly believed that this understanding was one of the reasons he and Gansey were still so close. Gansey knew when not to push.

Noah slipped his arms around both of their shoulders and stuck his head between theirs. “Sorry to interrupt your super important whispering, but do either of you know what time it is?”

Gansey checked his watch. “About three o’clock. Why?”

“Natalia’s in town, visiting her boarding school roommate. They’re going to some boring get together at five and she’s making me play chauffeur.”

“Can’t she drive?” Adam asked.

“Not if she can help it,” Noah answered. “Besides, I’m the DD, so I have to hang around all these architects and interior designers for _hours_ and I can’t even get drunk.” He tsked.

“You could show them your drawings,” Blue suggested. “The birds. Maybe they’ll want to put them on their walls.” Noah shrugged and released Ronan and Gansey’s shoulders from his hold. They were back at the dorms. “You know,” Blue continued as she held the door open for her friends, “we could probably get our art class to paint them in Cabeswater. We could make a mural.”

“That’d be cool.”

“If you make them ravens, it could be school spirit and shit,” Ronan said.

“Since when do you care about school spirit?” Adam asked once they made their way into the lounge. Ronan gave him a cool look. “I’ll have you know I’m very fond of school spirit.” He just hated cheerleaders. Before Adam had a chance to respond, Ronan moved over to his brothers, who were sitting by the kitchen.

When they saw him, Matthew passed Ronan a sandwich that he had apparently made and saved for him. Declan asked him why it took so long for him and his friends to get out of their gear. “Even Carruthers was back before you guys,” he said. Ronan shrugged and sat down beside Matthew. “Noah takes long showers,” he said. “We talk. It’s not like it matters; it’s Wednesday, none of us have classes after noon.”

Declan stared at him, as if trying to find something wrong with his story, something to get pissy about, but there wasn’t anything. Ronan’s only class on Wednesday was Latin, and he always attended that in the mornings. Declan knew this. Eventually, Declan’s stare broke, and he relented, instead pushing out his chair and getting up.

“Someone’s been messing with the treadmill settings,” he told Ronan. “Help me reset them.” With that, he was walking off to the gym, leaving Ronan to silently return his sandwich to Matthew before going after him.

Being alone with Declan was strange. Whenever Ronan tried to remember the last time he had felt comfortable being in a room with just Declan, he could only really think of the time before their father’s death, and even then, Matthew had always been present in some capacity. Now, though, the air between them was either fire or ice. There was either anger radiating off of them, only to result in fist fights, or some massive, uncrossable wall of blame and separation. Currently, it was the latter.

“You didn’t come jogging with us this morning,” Declan mentioned cooly, breaking the silence.

“Slept in,” Ronan responded in the same tone.

Declan glanced over at him, his fingers pressing the buttons on one of the malfunctioning pieces of equipment. “You’ll mess up your sleep schedule. It’ll throw off your game.”

“My sleep schedule’s been fucked up for months.” Declan opened his mouth to say something, but Ronan continued. “If I feel like it’s throwing me off, I’ll go on meds.” That appeased his brother for about three seconds.

“Drugs are dangerous,” Declan said, moving to another machine.

“I’m talking about sleep aids, Declan, not crack,” Ronan bit out, punching in settings.

“You can OD on either one, and God knows you drink enough alcohol to leave a real mark.”

Ronan looked up at that, and saw his brother across the room, staring at him. It was hard to tell these days what Declan’s motivations were when it came to his concerns. Did he care about Ronan’s safety because it was _Ronan’s_ safety? Did he care because of their father’s legacy? Did he care for the sake of Ronan’s future career? For his own? For the all of theirs? The whole ordeal would be so much easier if Declan would just get his shit together and _say_ what the fuck he meant. But no. He had to just do things like this, make some semi unguarded remark about Ronan and pretend it never happened.

It was at times like that that Ronan thought about when they were younger. The entire Lynch family was generally better with actions than words; feelings were conveyed with some helpful deed, or a ruffling of hair, or stepping forward in the face of a threat. There must have been a time where Ronan could have just walked up to Declan and hugged him. There had to have been some part of their lives where they could have said “I’m worried about you, you asshole,” and let it stay in the open.

But of course Declan refused to be completely genuine about anything and Ronan refused to let go of his pride, and so here they were, as messy off the court as they were seamless on it, refusing to forgive each other for all the things they never wanted to happen.

“Why can’t you trust me?” he asked. “Why can’t you see that I’m not going to mess up your perfect press image with some stupid fucking overdose?”

“Because you seem so goddam _set_ on tearing your life apart!” Declan raised his voice. Ronan turned away from him, choosing to look through the windows into the lounge instead of facing his brother. “And don’t pretend I didn’t find out you skipped all your classes on the first day of the semester! Are we going to go through all this again? You having _another_ bad year? How far do you think you can push the board before they…”

Ronan ignored Declan’s rant in favour of paying attention to the scene in the lounge. Parrish was sitting with Matthew now, shoving a piece of paper in his face. Ronan could see Matthew’s expression; it was the deer in the headlights look he got when someone… Fuck. Adam was trying to get him to read the sheet.

Hell, no.

He marched out of the gym doors, pretending he couldn’t hear Declan’s “Hey!” of protest. He quickly interrupted Adam’s frustrated paper shaking by snatching the sheet out of his hands. “He’s dyslexic, asshole,” he hissed. Adam’s face grew white in shame.

Ronan scanned the paper. It was a game schedule, obviously a revision; Ronan had already memorized the existing one. Most of it was the same, except there had been some changements to the odds and evens brackets. He looked it over. Nothing new, nothing new, nothing - he did a double take.

The Hornets had been moved to the odds bracket.

The Ravens were in the odds bracket.

They were playing each other in three weeks.

Ronan eyes searched the room. “Where’s Gansey?” he demanded Adam.

“He went for a drive with Blue. Said he won’t be back until she needs to go to work,” Adam responded, looking satisfied that Ronan’s reaction to the paper was similar to his own.

Ronan lifted the sheet up high and yelled “Nobody mentions this to Gansey!” to the entire room, shocking everyone who was there. He stormed towards the door, and responded to Adam’s call of “He has to find out eventually!” with “I’ll do it myself!”

However, it wasn’t Gansey he was going to find. It was Coach Gray. That lousy bastard… hadn’t he done enough? Hadn’t he made sure that life would be hell for Ronan? Did he have to go ruining it for his friends too? He barged into the sports office, startling the secretary and thoroughly scaring the freshman who had made the mistake of getting in his way. That asshole better be in his office.

Sure enough, when Ronan pushed his door out of the way, there Gray was, sitting back in his desk with a pile of paperwork in front of him. Probably all the practice schedules and travel plans Gansey had done up for him. All Gray had to do was sign and file them and show them off. Here he was, letting the board shove his most loyal and dedicated player under the bus.

“What is this?!” Ronan demanded, brandishing the game schedule.

Gray looked up at him, the surprise of Ronan’s presence fading into preparation for the upcoming dispute. He took a deep breath. “That would be this season’s schedule,” he said calmly.

“Oh, don’t act coy!” Ronan shouted. “You know damn well what you did!”

Coach Gray hesitated for a moment. “If this is about our Gansey, then-”

“O-o-oh…” Ronan growled, moving forward until he was directly in front of Gray’s desk. “Our Gansey? You mean the Gansey that has an _anxiety disorder_ because of what that team did to him? You mean the Gansey that had to go to _therapy_ because the refs couldn’t stop him from getting the life beaten out of him? The Gansey that can’t even play the fucking sport he loves so much and is _still_ the most hardworking person on this team? That one?!”

“Ronan-”

“How are you letting this happen?! The team got fucking disqualified for what they did to him, but somehow, by some miraculous turn of events, we have to play them again? Of all the fucking teams - They were in the other bracket! How the hell have they been moved?”

“Ronan!” Gray raised his voice to silent Ronan’s. “I assure you I didn’t want this to happen. I advised them against this -” Ronan scoffed. “- but they were adamant. After Fairmont closed their Exy program, there was an imbalance between the brackets. Blackwell University is the closest to the boundaries, so it made sense.”

“It’s _wrong_ ,” Ronan snarled.

“There’s nothing I can do.”

Ronan slammed his hands on the desk, making papers fly left and right. “You should have fought harder! It didn’t have to be Blackwell! WHU isn’t that far! Hell, I’d be willing to drive down to Palmetto!”

“The paperwork has been filed, Lynch. It’s unfortunate, yes, but it isn’t up to you. Or I, for that matter.”

Ronan sneered. “I know you love bending over backwards to make yourself look good to the board, but even _I_ didn’t expect you to be this much of a pushover.” Gray opened his mouth to say something, but Ronan held up a hand to stop him. “No. You can just sit here in your damn office and think about how you ‘tried your very best’ while I go explain to my best friend that you weren’t brave enough to stop him from having to face these bastards. Have fun.”

Ronan had just made it to the door when Gray spoke again. “Are you ever going to forgive me for what happened to your father?”

Ronan’s fingers hesitated on the doorknob. “Never.”

Then he left.

  
“Did you say hi to Noah’s sister?” Gansey asked as he tightened his shoelaces. They were laying out their gear in Cabeswater for a one on one practice, like they usually did on Wednesdays. Only this time, Ronan wasn’t able to just hang out with his friend. This time, he had to tell him that the very team that had stolen Gansey’s confidence and health was about to return into their lives and play them in just a few weeks.

“Not really.”

“Hmm. Blue and I got back just as they were about to leave. Natalia does look like him, don’t you think? There’s something in the eyes… and the elbows.”

“The elbows?” Ronan scoffed. “Really, Gansey?”

Gansey flashed him his award-winning Richard Campbell Gansey III smile. Ronan remembered in great detail how Gansey had given him that same smile right before going on the court during that damned game. “We’re going to win this,” he’d said, all confidence. They _had_ won, by default, but it had taken Gansey a month to be able to give a smile with even a shred of resemblance to his usual.

“So.” Gansey clasped his hands together. “What are we doing today? Tell me if it’s checking right away so I can prepare myself.”

“It’s not checking,” Ronan said. “Uhhh, we need to warm up first anyway.”

They took off into laps around the court, running side by side. At times they chatted about whatever they had noticed recently: the wildflowers Gansey had seen on his drive with Blue, the time the cheerleaders had tried to get Ronan to take a selfie with them, the strange music choice at Nino’s nowadays. Other times they were completely silent, just running and knowing the other was there. Usually, the transition between the two was almost unnoticeable to Ronan, but today he much preferred the conversation. When it was quiet, he had more space to think, and more space to think meant that he kept turning the ways to bring up the game schedule to Gansey over in his head.

Eventually, Gansey seemed to notice that Ronan was off, and decided that he had no plans as to when they were stopping, so he broke off his run. Ronan continued on another lap, not bothering to pretend that he wasn’t stalling. He collapsed next to Gansey on the floor, steadying his breathing.

“When you run like that,” Gansey said, “there’s something on your mind. I think you forget you have feet.”

“I remember them later,” Ronan responded, “when they hurt.”

“What’s wrong, Ronan?”

Ronan turned his head to face Gansey’s. They were lying next to each other, and his friend’s face was full of earnest, genuine concern. A face like that made every piece of bad news harder. Gansey felt everything so deeply, and he and Ronan had gotten to the point in their friendship where Ronan could still see his feelings when he hid them. There would be no concealing the fear he was about to feel.

“Gray got a new game schedule,” Ronan said, sitting up. “They changed some things around.”

Gansey laughed, sitting up as well. “Is that what this is about? The schedule? Ronan, I think this team is prepared enough to have a winning chance at any of these teams, no matter what order they come at us in.”

“No, no… it’s not the order.” He took a breath. “Gansey, they moved the Hornets from the evens bracket into the odds bracket.”

Gansey’s face went white. Ronan saw his recently steadied breathing pick up again. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

“We’re playing them in a few weeks,” Ronan finished the bad news.

Gansey made a strange sound as he inhaled. “Is that it?”

“Yes.”

Gansey exhaled, and bunched his knees up, holding them to his chest. Ronan didn’t know what he’d expected. Maybe rocking back and forth, or crying, or hyperventilating at the very least. But no. This was Gansey, and even his breakdowns were somewhat contained. He just… stared. At the opposite side of the court, his eyes glazed over, his breathing shaky.

“They won’t make you play, you know. I doubt they’ll even let you.”

Gansey said nothing.

“I’m not going to let them hurt you. They even come near you and I’ll-”

Gansey held up a hand and Ronan faltered. After a while he said, “I don’t want to be treated like a liability, or - or some weakling that needs to be protected.”

“You’re not, Gansey,” Ronan insisted. “You’re the bravest one of us all.”

Gansey let out a puff of air. “I… I feel like I should be making some grand statement that I’m going to play that game… like I should be proving myself.” He looked up at Ronan, more vulnerable than he had seemed for a while. “But I can’t. Every time I think about them, I - I’m sick.”

Ronan put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We have some time before that game, Gansey. I doubt Gray will let you on the court. Actually, I doubt any of us will. Don’t worry, you won’t have to get close to them.” Gansey’s head dropped into his hands. “No one’s rushing you to get better, you have all the time in the world.”

Quickly, Gansey’s hand flew out and caught Ronan’s wrist. He looked up and stared into Ronan’s eyes intently. “No.”

“What?” Ronan asked, incredulous.

“I said no,” Gansey repeated. “I may not be playing that game, but I don’t have all the time in the world. The only reason I’m still on this _team_ is because Coach Gray vouched for my recovery… and you’ve all been so kind and understanding and telling me no one’s rushing me… but I’m done feeling like this.”

“Gansey-”

“I’m done waiting around to feel better while I bank on everyone’s patience. I won’t be playing that game, but I’m coming back this season. I’m going to work on my checking, I’m going to watch their games, I’m going to take part in the scrimmages, I’m....” he trailed off, and looked around the arena and then back at Ronan. “I’m going to need your help. Can I count on you?”

Ronan nodded, and slung an arm around Gansey’s shoulders. “Always.”

“Then I guess our nights have just gotten longer.”

  
The mood the next morning at Nino’s was strange and fluctuating. It started off fine, with Noah recounting the events of his sister’s party.

“It was weird,” he said. “By the end of the night, half the guests were drunk, but not a single person danced on a table.”

However, that conversation only lasted as long as it took for Blue to catch on to Adam’s wariness and Gansey’s silence. Then all eyes turned to Ronan and the bomb was dropped.

“What?!” Blue shrieked.

“You can’t be serious,” Noah murmured.

“It’s there in black and white.” Ronan reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded game schedule. He tossed it onto the table and watched as Blue fumbled for it, unfolding it and reading it ravenously.

“Those bastards,” Blue growled as Adam asked, “So, I guess your talk with Coach Gray didn’t go as planned.”

Ronan leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms angrily. “No, it didn’t. The son of a bitch said there was nothing he could do about it. Something about Fairmont closing their Exy program and imbalances between the brackets and boundaries - all that shit.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Blue sighed into her hands. Then, she looked at Gansey, who was still silent. “Gansey, are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and gave her a small smile. “I’m fine, Jane.”

“Good. Because there is no way we are letting them come near you. If that asshole Kavinsky even _looks_ at you, I’ll take a swing at him. He’s going to be a pane of plexiglass away from you at all times.”

Gansey stared at her.

She frowned for a minute before coming to an eye-widening conclusion. “Oh, no no no. You can’t possibly be considering-”

“I’m not,” he assured her.

Blue studied his face for a while, trying to figure out how genuine he was being. “...Fine. Good.”

“What are we going to do, guys?” Noah asked softly, looking around the group with worried eyes.

“I know what we’re going to do,” said Adam, who had otherwise been silent about his opinion. He grinned. “We’re going to win that game.”

  
“I don’t know why we even bother to do this,” Adam commented as he put on his pajamas. “We both know we’re just going to go out again.”

Ronan shrugged, but he too had taken off his shirt. That didn’t have anything to do with going to bed, though; Ronan just hated wearing shirts at unnecessary times. It seemed that the only times he could ever get away with going topless were in the shower and in his own dorm room. Everywhere else, people stared at him. He was _used_ to people staring at him, but there was something different about it in that scenario. People stared at him because they liked what they saw, because they had some kind of preconceived idea of him based on his appearance, because not only did they want something _from_ him, they _wanted him_. Ronan didn’t like that. They didn’t know him at all, but they still wanted his body.

‘Prude,’ said a little voice in his head that sounded a lot like Declan’s.

‘Shut up,’ he told the voice.

“Makes it feel secret,” he said aloud.

Adam looked over at him, somewhat amused. Then, he shrugged and climbed into bed, humoring Ronan’s fantasy that they both weren’t just waiting to walk over to Cabeswater. “Goodnight, Lynch,” Adam said wittily.

Ronan found himself smiling at Adam’s tone. “Fuck off, Parrish.”

Adam laughed, and the light went off.

Ronan just layed there for about half an hour, until the sky was completely dark and Adam’s breathing slowed. He wasn’t sure if Adam was awake and waiting for him, or if he was asleep, or if he was only pretending. Either way, Ronan didn’t feel like he was being watched, so he was able to quietly get up, put on a shirt and shoes, and go.

Like Adam had said, this sneaking around was ridiculous. They weren’t doing anything bad, and it wasn’t against the rules to practice at night. There was literally nothing stopping them from just walking there together and coming back at the same time, a system which would probably make the excursion a lot easier. But there was something about the walk in the darkness to the stadium that Ronan wouldn’t replace; the quiet, the feeling of being unwatched and unnoticed, the pretence that Adam showing up wasn’t an expectation of him.

He managed to set up the equipment and get a few throws of practice in for himself before Adam snuck quietly into the arena and onto the court. Ronan never saw him come in until he cleared his throat.

“More running around cones?” Adam guessed, eyeing the line in the center of the court.

“To start with,” Ronan told him. “Get to it.”

Adam sighed, but did as he was told.

Ronan sat down in his usual spot, against the wall of the court, watching Adam practice. He noted silently that Adam’s footwork had improved. Ronan hadn’t told him, but he’d been moving the cones ever so slightly closer together each week, making sure the difference had been gradual enough for him not to notice; Adam had himself convinced that he was doing the exact same drill each week, and had therefore perfected it, when he had really been challenged every step of the way. Now, he moved around the cones with a look of boredom. But there was concentration there, too. _Good_ , Ronan thought to himself. His father would have been proud of that mindframe; acing something to the point of perfection, but still caring about potential failure.

His father would have treated him with a bright smile and a pat on the back, before going “next” and throwing something new at him.

“You can stop now,” Ronan shouted after Adam had gone around the set a few times.

Adam stopped running and turned to him expectantly.

“It’s better,” Ronan told him. Feeling awkward at the sight of Adam’s beaming smile, he added, “Yeah, you don’t look like you’re trying to squash ants anymore. Congratulations.”

Adam’s smile didn’t go away. Ronan turned to the stick rack and pulled off the one with Adam’s name on it and tossed it to him. “We’re doing passes,” he announced.

“Side passes?”

“To start with.” That was always his answer.

“When you’re on the court,” he continued, picking up his own racquet, “you really have to learn to pass.” He held up a hand, stopping the eyeroll that he just _knew_ Parrish was giving him. “Because when you don’t pass, you make yourself a target. Not just in one game, but in _every game_. They see that you don’t pass, that you hoard the ball, and then they know that they can concentrate all their efforts on _you_.”

Adam frowned, but Ronan knew he was listening.

“You have to figure out how to find people, quickly, and get the ball to them before the backliners can reach you. Then, they’ll know that they can’t just pounce you to get the ball, they’ll have to focus on all of us.” He smirked. “Divide and conquer. Side passes are good for getting the ball down the line, and not giving off your plan too quickly. _But_ you have less time to aim.”

“Ronan, we went through this alrea-”

“No, I had you practice aiming. And for the record, I _did_ see your side pass in practice. You found your target quicker, but you didn’t aim accurately enough. Which is why we’re practicing with a moving target.”

Adam raised a brow. “What are you gonna do? Run beside me with target board?”

“Not exactly.”

Minutes later, they were jogging around the court, a ball being passed between them mid-run. “There’s no point having a target board for moving practice. You need to get the ball into mine or Declan’s racquet anyway.”

Adam caught the ball passed to him and studied Ronan, trying to gauge their distance and where he should throw the ball to make sure it got _into_ Ronan’s net.

“Come on, Parrish,” Ronan prodded. “I’m directly across from you.”

Adam threw. Ronan’s arms lashed out like a whip and caught the ball.

“Decent,” came Ronan’s comment.

Like he had predicted, after that assessment of mediocrity, Adam’s performance became more focused. After the first throw, he had a feel for what to expect when the ball left his racquet, and so he worked more on _faster, easier, better._ He tried to calculate the strength of his passes in the same second he looked to Ronan. He tried to get the hang of the movement, now that he had to focus more on his feet. _No, you don’t,_ Ronan thought to himself. _You’ve got the foot part down. I’ve made sure of that._

_Pass._

“Faster.”

_Pass._

“Keep your arms closer to your core.”

_Pass._

“Stop doubting yourself.”

_Pass._

“...That one was good.”

Adam’s pace slowed as he gawked at his teammate. “Wait, really?”

“Yes,” Ronan told him. “That pass was nice.” He sped up so that he was ahead of Adam. “Now do that all again with me up here.”

Adam groaned, but he did as Ronan said.

Almost an hour later, the two of them sat sprawled out on the court - Ronan stretching his legs, and Adam resting. It brought up old memories for him to see his teammate lying down, settling his breathing like that. When practicing Exy, it was so easy to lose yourself and just _play_. After so many years, Ronan had learned to pace himself and remember what his body was actually going through while he was playing, so he didn’t usually collapse unless he pushed himself. Adam on the other hand, was still a newbie. His feet were going to kill him tomorrow.

The only sound in the court for a while was the sound of their heavy breathing. Then, Adam spoke, quietly and deliberately, “I know that you’re more worried about Gansey than you’re letting on. I’m worried about him too.”

Ronan huffed. “Everybody’s worried about him.”

Adam turned to face him. “It’s alright that you’re worried, you know. You’re his best friend and his teammate. And I know he’s going to be leaning on you for a while, but that doesn’t mean… you don’t have to bear it all alone.”

“What are you trying to say, Parrish?” Ronan grunted, looking out into the court because it was way, _way_ better than looking at his eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ronan actually laughed out loud. When was the last time he had ever _talked_ about anything? Other than Exy? Hell, was there anything in his life worth talking about that didn’t involve Exy? Even this moment, this conversation about his concern for Gansey’s wellbeing came back to the sport; it was because of Exy that they were sitting in this court, it was Exy’s fault that Gansey was ever in this mess, and it was probably thanks to Exy that Ronan had the emotional constipation of a potato. So, _no._ He couldn’t remember ever talking about anything.

“No,” he told Adam.

Parrish coughed awkwardly. “Well, if you ever want to…”

Ronan turned to face him. “Why are you asking me this? I know you’re his teammate too and shit, but if this is about _you_ needing to talk, then you’ve got a whole group of friends who are probably far more willing to get touchy-feely with you. Of all of them, why are you bringing this up with _me?”_

Adam stared at him for a while, then he looked down and started tracing his finger against the wooden floor. “What Gansey went through… that trauma… it must have been horrible. I mean, I - I can only imagine what he went through. I’ve never, er, experienced it myself, but I can imagine that all that fear and pain, and… I just think it’s nice that he has you guys as his friends and his support system.”

Adam looked up, looking at Ronan intently. “And I know what you’re going through, too.” Ronan snorted, but Adam kept talking. “No, I do. You’re scared and you don’t want to be vulnerable by leaning on anybody. You’re keeping everything inside and supporting everyone else but you’re not letting anyone do the same for you because… because you’re trying to be macho or something.” Ronan laughed dismissively, but Adam wouldn’t let it go. “Laugh all you want, but I saw it at lunch. You’re worried about him, but unlike everyone else, for some reason you’re set on being this impassive pillar of strength who accepts no help. That’s why I asked you.”

Ronan stared at him, incredulous. No one had ever expressed their care for him in such a blunt and semi-judgmental way. “And what do you know about all of that?”

Adam hesitated. “Nothing.”

Ronan’s retort was already on his lips, waiting to form an insult or diversion and push Parrish the fuck away from any conversation about _feelings_. ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ he wanted to say. ‘You know nothing.’ Instead, he paused.

“I don’t need your help,” he said to Adam, his tone slightly less venomous than it could have been. “But… you really care a lot about him, don’t you?”

Adam nodded, his eyes down in his lap. “I never really thought a life like this was possible until I met him.”

Ronan nodded slowly. He didn’t know exactly what Parrish meant by “a life like this”, but he definitely knew the sentiment. Gansey had a way of coming into your life and becoming the thing that marks a “before” and “after” in your world. You never wanted the “after” to end, especially since you could no longer remember how the “before” had felt.

“Well, just make sure that concern stays on him and not me. I can handle myself.”

In fact, one of the only things Ronan was afraid of was not being able to handle himself. He was afraid of leaning on others, because he was scared that it may just end up being the last straw, the thing that made people decide he wasn’t worth the effort. He was scared that if he leaned on someone, they might fall over themselves under the weight of his issues. He was terrified that if he let himself be supported by someone else, that he would grow too dependant, and wouldn’t be able to catch himself if they dropped him. It was all these things that had happened within the horrible month that his father had died, and he had promised himself _never again_. He really had become a pillar, and he had no plans to let his guard down any time soon.

He wasn’t going to let Parrish know that, of course.

Adam seemed to sense how thick the air between them had gotten, because he cleared his throat and said, “It’s getting late.”

Ronan looked at him. “It’s been late since we got here.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I m-”

“We don’t have to go just yet. I… I think you’re ready for a harder pass.”

Adam’s eyebrows lifted. Ronan had never given him the impression that they would be going past the basics anytime soon. Ronan himself hadn’t really been planning to advance tonight, but he didn’t think he was wrong, and he certainly wasn’t turning back.

“Really? You mean it?”

“Yeah,” Ronan found himself saying. “Grab your racquet.”

He watched as Adam sprung up from his spot and grabbed his racquet, which had been laying on the floor beside him. Ronan moved over to the first-court line, in front of the home goal, and waited for Adam to join him. When he did, Ronan could see the contained excitement in his eyes.

“Now, when I say a ‘harder pass’, I don’t really mean that this is hard. I know way more complicated stuff than this, and I’m sure a lot of our opponents wouldn’t even see this as anything fancy, but it _is_ more than what you know right now.”

He grabbed Adam’s racquet and moved to demonstrate the throw. “This is what my family calls a Toothpick. You basically swing like you would any overhand, but when your racquet is at your shoulder, you move your hands up like this. As if your racquet was a toothpick and you’re trying to get something out of an imaginary set of giant teeth. It gives you a higher throw.”

He handed Adam his racquet back and watched him attempt to mimic Ronan’s movements. “Like this?” he asked after a try. It was close, but too jerky. If he did it like that, he would just throw off his aim and completely miss the target. Ronan tried to figure out a way to show him how fluid the action was supposed to be.

“Here,” he said, and stepped behind Adam. “I’ll show you how.”

It was awkward, how close he was standing to Parrish. Being on a team had generally made Ronan immune to shirtless, naked bodies and tactile behaviour, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of intimacy that had washed over him. Maybe it was the quiet arena, with no rowdy, rambunctious boys to serve as a distraction. Maybe it was the general atmosphere of being alone, just the two of them, with no reason to be here other than the fact that they had both agreed. Either way, as Ronan wrapped his arms around Parrish’s from behind, he could sense a very thick envelope of _too much, step away, get your shit together_ surrounding him.

There was a trail of sweat dripping down Parrish’s back, all the way from the nape of his neck, down the line of his shirt. He smelled like pine deodorant. Ronan swallowed.

He moved his arms the way he would if he was making the play himself, demonstrating the motion. “Don’t push too hard,” he said quietly. “You’ll hit your mark better if you keep it fluid and contained. Like this.” He stepped away, his pulse slightly raised from the proximity. “Got it?” he asked.

Adam nodded, so Ronan tossed him a ball. “Try it out.”

Adam repeated the Toothpick, the way Ronan had shown him how. He swung the ball much more smoothly, and Ronan saw him hit the goal, just above the taped X. He wondered if Adam had been aiming to hit the X or if he was planning to go above it all along.

“Do it again,” he told him, and walked away, back to his spectator’s spot and as far as he could get from Parrish’s deodorant.

He sat against the wall, and watched as Adam repeated the play again and again and again, catching the balls on the rebound and sending them straight back against that X. Sometimes, he hit it perfectly. Sometimes, the ball ended up in inch or two away from it in any direction. Overall, he was definitely more accurate than Ronan would have expected him to be a few weeks ago. No matter how the shot turned out, Ronan watched Adam line up for the next one, never stopping. He had expected him to be done with this by now, ready to clean up and head back.

Ronan never should have expected that. This was Adam Parrish, and he was just as all or nothing as Ronan was.

Finally, after Adam had hit the mark ten times in a row, he turned to Ronan, beaming. He set down his racket and shook his head, making his cropped hair move like a wave, spitting out drops of sweat into the air around him. He took off his shirt and used it to wipe his forehead. Ronan got up and started stacking the cones. One of them had a smiley face sticker on the side. Had he ever noticed that? No, he didn’t think he had.

“We’re done for the night. You can head back now.”

He heard Parrish’s voice from behind him, tired but amiable. “What about you? Or are we still humouring each other?”

Ronan kept collecting equipment to put away. “Just put our racquets back. I’m going to put this all away, and then I’m going to take a shower before I leave.” _A nice cold one._

“Fine. I think I’m going to take one too when I get back. I’m all sweaty. Goodnight, Lynch.”

“Night, Parrish.”

And then Adam was gone and Ronan was faced with a court littered with equipment. It felt somewhat empty.

  
The next team practice didn’t start off too well; by then, the rest of the team had heard about the game schedule, but only half of the group were aware of its validity. Twice, Cheng had come up to Ronan to ask about it, and twice Ronan had dismissed him. He wasn’t going to be the one responsible for starting a panic.

Either way, there was no mistaking the jittery mood of the room. Everyone wanted to be sure of what was going on, and everyone wanted what they had heard to be wrong. _It’s not incorrect,_ Ronan thought to himself. _It’s still_ wrong. There were three occasions during the time it took for the team to get changed that Ronan saw Tad’s eyes shifting towards Gansey with pity. He took it upon himself to slide closer to his friend and meet each glance with a glare. The message was clear: keep looking at Gansey like that, and he wasn’t going to be the one needing pity.

For his part, Gansey was doing a good job at keeping a straight face. To people who didn’t know him so personally, he would appear in control and modestly confident. Ronan noticed that Gansey was standing much closer to him than he usually did. The moment Blue appeared from her own changing room, their hands were locked together.

The whole team was sitting in the center of the court, looking and feeling like a group of nervous children, waiting for someone to come and explain things to them. Ronan would gladly get up there and tell everyone just how much of a coward Gray was, and how he’d sat back and kept his conscience clear while their beloved captain was cast into the dirt, but he spared Gansey the embarrassment. Gray himself did the honors.

Ronan looked around as their coach explained the ordeal to the members of the team that hadn’t already known. Somewhere in the back of the group, someone gasped. A few murmurs of dismay could be heard to Ronan’s left. Everyone else was eerily quiet. Nobody had seen this coming, nobody had wanted this. It was only a matter of time before-

“They can’t do this,” Henry stated firmly, “not after what happened. I move that we get a restraining order.”

“For the whole team?” Matthew asked.

“Not the whole team,” Tad said. He looked around. “We all know who caused this.”

“We have no proof,” Declan told him. “They can disqualify him, sure. They disqualified the whole team. But when it comes to sports, violence is expected, and a lot of the time, it’s looked over. It’s hard to assign blame when you’re arguing over a sport where people hit each other for entertainment.” Ronan saw his eyes quickly glance at Gray.

“Why don’t we have a say in this?” Tad asked.

“Do we ever?” Noah shot back.

“It’s the NCAA,” Blue agreed. “Their only rules are what the people want to see and what’s legal - and sometimes they have no problem finding loopholes.”

“They can’t make us put him through that!” Tad argued.

“No one’s saying he has to play,” Ronan said.

“We shouldn’t have to play them at all,” Adam grumbled.

“They’d say we’re cheating,” Matthew said solemnly.

“There’s only one person who’s really a cheat here,” Henry said, raising his voice, “and that’s Joseph Kavinsky!”

The moments the words were out of his mouth, Cheng clasped a hand over his lips, wincing as half the team gasped and Gansey flinched. They barely mentioned Kavinsky since the accident, and it was a general rule never to speak his name around Gansey. At the thought of his friend, Ronan felt a flush of shame. He was sitting right there beside him, and yet nobody had any problems discussing him while he stayed quiet, not voicing his own opinion. It was probably because he didn’t want anyone to know that he and Ronan had been working on his physical block. They knew that he was healing, but they didn’t know how or how much. Gansey probably didn’t want them getting ideas that he was going to throw himself out there.

 _Still,_ Ronan thought to himself. _He’s stopped shaking when people crowd him. He hasn’t curled into the fetal position since that first month. That’s something to be proud of._

“I’ll be alright, everybody,” Gansey told the group. “There’s no need to worry.”

Blue put a hand on his shoulder. “We just don’t want you to have to go through any more than you already have.”

He placed his own hand over hers. “I know. But I think I’ll be perfectly safe off the court, tucked away on that bench.” He smiled half-heartedly. Blue still looked worried. “Either way, we still have to practice if we want to win that game.”

It was a dismissal to get to work, and everyone knew it. Gray blew his whistle and started telling different people what to grab from the equipment rooms - they were going to be splitting up and doing scrimmages in groups of four. On Team Blue, there would be Declan as striker, Noah as dealer, Henry as backliner, and Blue guarding the goal. On Team Black, there would be Ronan as striker, Adam as dealer, Tad as backliner, and Matthew guarding the goal. Ronan made his way over to the equipment room to grab the strips of fabric that would mark each team.

He pulled the box off of one of the shelves, and when he turned around, Declan and Matthew were standing there, looking like bouncers. Declan grabbed the box from him.

“Hey!” Ronan protested. “What the fuck, dweeb?”

“You can have these back when you promise us something,” Declan told him.

Ronan crossed his arms, already annoyed and very much not in the mood for his brother’s antics. “What?”

“Ronan,” Matthew started. “We know you’re worried about Gansey - and we are too! - but we just want you to tell us that you’re not going to go around getting into trouble because of the game.”

“By trouble we mean getting carded because you picked fights, getting almost arrested because you slashed tires, yelling at your teachers because you’re upset…”

“... putting yogurt in the opposing cheerleaders’ bags…”

“...getting moody on social media…”

“...putting yogurt in _our_ cheerleaders’ bags…”

“Basically everything you did last year,” Declan concluded.

Ronan huffed. They couldn’t prove that half of those things had been him. Of course, they all _had_ been him, but Ronan wasn’t a fan of assumptions. “Can’t you just trust me?”

His brothers looked to each other and then back at him. “We trust you, Ronan,” Matthew said, “but we also _know_ you. Please just promise.”

Ronan sighed. “Fine. I promise I won’t do anything stupid and reckless out of spite. Do I need to shake pinkies?”

Declan frowned. “Thank you.” He shoved the box of markers back into his hands and left, trailed by Ronan and Matthew. Ronan supposed that was a good enough meet-up for the day, even if the only thing they discussed was what _not_ to do - specifically, what _Ronan_ was not to do. He didn’t feel like he got enough credit for the amount of care it took to be reckless without getting caught. He was pretty sure that sneaking into Blue’s fridge and stealing her Costco-sized yogurt tubs could have gotten him killed. Luckily, she was also angry and nowhere near a racquet when she discovered the absence.

When Ronan stepped out of the equipment room, Gray was already blowing his whistle. “There’s been a change of plans!” he announced. “Gansey will be the dealer on Team Blue! Czerny, you’ll be goalie. We’ll switch Blue and Henry out as backliners.”

He’s really doing it, then. Participating.

Ronan mentioned this when he was making his rounds, passing out the different coloured pieces of fabric. “I keep my word,” was what Gansey told him. “And I’m not exceptionally fanatic about being a bench-warmer.”

The team split itself up and positioned themselves on different sides of the court. Scrimmages were much easier on larger teams, where they were able to keep the proper amount of backliners and strikers on each half. With only nine Ravens, it was different. Even if the dealer helped out on either side, there was always going to be a gap in the offense or defense, and to keep the sides even, one player always had to sit out. Ronan remembered the year before, when they had fourteen players. Practicing was so much easier then… but after the accident, three seniors graduated, two juniors dropped out, and another couple recruits bailed. They had to make do.

The ball started out on Ronan’s side, and then the practice had begun. It took about a quarter second for Ronan to break away from the instinct of _‘pass to Declan’_ . He shot it down to Matthew. Ronan ran closer to the goal, but Henry got in his way. In the time it took for him to get around him, he saw that Adam had gotten the ball. He passed to Ronan. Ronan scored.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Adam grinning. He ignored it in favour of making sure that the other side didn’t gain possession. Once Declan had the ball… well, Ronan’s team wouldn’t be scoring many points. Noah retrieved it and sent it down the field, but Tad caught it and sent it down to Ronan, who narrowly escaped being checked by Henry, and scored.

The back and forths were short and ended with numerous shots being scored on each side, the possession changing multiple times. That was another thing with scrimmages; after working so hard with your team, you generally learned the way everyone played. That made it a lot easier to score on them, and a lot easier for them to score on you. At one point, the other team had the ball, after restarting with Blue as a backliner. The ball went from Gansey’s racket, to Blue’s. As Adam moved closer to her to get it back, Ronan ran up-court to prevent it from getting back to Declan, but by the time he got to the half-court line, the ball was sent to Gansey.

Gansey was right in front of him. He had the ball. There was a split second when time seemed to slow down for Ronan, even as the game moved so quickly, where he looked right at his friend and caught his eye. He couldn’t quite figure out if there had been some kind of silent communication between them, or if Ronan had simply decided what to do, but a call had definitely been made.

Ronan checked Gansey, and took the ball.

He felt everyone’s eyes on him as Gansey stumbled, but he turned around and sent the ball Noah’s way. He scored. Everyone was still watching Gansey.

Gray and Blue were already rushing towards him, and Ronan heard her grumble his name as she passed. Gansey was back on his feet now, and he caught Ronan’s eye again. There was no look of betrayal there, which he was very relieved about; it almost looked like Gansey was _pleased._ Stunned and shaky, yes, but he seemed almost proud.

He held up his hands. “I’m fine, everybody. Please, relax.”

Blue gawked at him for a moment before spinning around to face Ronan. “Ronan!” she hissed. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Ronan shrugged. There was no way he was telling the team about his night practices. “He had the ball, I wanted it, so I checked him.”

“You could have hurt him.”

“I’m fine,” Gansey protested. “It wasn’t that hard of a check.”

The whole team looked to Coach Gray, waiting for the verdict. Gray was staring intently at Gansey and warily at Ronan, trying to decide if either of them were being dishonest. He spread his arms. “If he says he’s fine, we have to believe he’s fine. Keep playing.”

The game continued from where it had left off, and the pace gradually picked up from its uncomfortable beginning. Once the scrimmage got going, the points were pretty even on both sides, with Declan and Ronan getting the ball often to take shots. One major thing Ronan noticed was that Parrish wasn’t in his way as much as he usually was. He had expected that there would be a change, what with all of their practices, but it still took him by surprise.

_At least he’s capable of learning. I don’t know what I’d do with him if he still refused to pass._

Matthew blocked one of Declan’s shots. “Come on, Matt!” Declan yelled in frustration. Matthew only spread his arms in half-hearted apology. Declan would only be upset if their brother _did_ go easy on him. Besides, Declan was keeping possession longer anyway.

Matthew sent the ball back to Ronan, who was suddenly greeted by Blue. He didn’t bother trying to get around someone as nimble as her, so he sent it to Adam, who was unfortunately a little far away from the goal. Ronan saw the gears turn in his head and watched as he smoothly began to arc the ball, but hiked it up at the last second, making up for his distance.

A perfect Toothpick.

Tad whistled as the ball hit the goal just above the range of Noah’s racquet, making the borders light up red. Gray’s whistle blew and he announced that the scrimmage was over, and that they could get changed and go. As Ronan took off his helmet, he was surprised that Parrish wasn’t somewhere in his line of sight, smirking or grinning or some other infuriating thing like that. As looked around the court for him, he saw Declan come up to him.

“Was that a Toothpick Parrish just did?” he asked. “Where’d he learn that?”

Sensing the thinly-hidden accusation, Ronan shrugged and said, “Osmosis.” He walked over to the change room to find his friends. As he passed Parrish’s locker, he threw a “Not bad,” his way, but didn’t see his reaction. He settled at his locker, beside Gansey’s, and began the process of taking off his gear.

“You did good, man,” he told his friend.

Gansey smiled quietly. “It took a moment, but I did shake it off, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did. Freaked out most of the fucking team in the process, though.”

Gansey chuckled, wiping his brow. “Doesn’t take much to do that, really. But at least they care.”

Ronan still couldn’t shake his fear for the upcoming game, despite Gansey’s mental improvement and word that he would stay on the bench. What if he got up there and saw Kavinsky’s face and months of therapy and breakdowns and calls to his sister were for nothing? What if there was nothing Ronan could do about it? He had been mere rooms away when his father’s life had been so cruelly stripped from him. He had been moments too slow to keep Gansey from getting jumped at that game. He had let a wall of Hornets and an overwhelmed ref stop him from saving his best friend from losing his livelihood. What if something got in his way again and that damn team crushed him a little further?

Ronan thought of Kavinsky’s face, thought of him in his Aglionby uniform, and his fists clenched.

 _Never again,_ he thought. _Never again._

By the time he snapped out of his train of thought, he realized all of his friends were done changing and he still had to get dressed. Gansey, Noah and Adam were all watching him, waiting for him to finish up. He was about to say something, or rush to put his clothes on, when Blue stepped into the boys’ change room. She wasn’t allowed to be there, of course, but this was the maggot, and as long as it was just them, no one was stopping her.

“You boys go ahead,” she told their friends. “I’ll wait with Ronan.”

“You sure?” Adam asked. “Because we can-”

“It’s fine. Don’t you have a class?”

Ronan didn’t know who she was talking to, but apparently one of them _did_ have a class, because they left without a further word. Gansey squeezed her hand as he left. Then it was just the two of them.

“Careful, maggot,” he told her as he pulled on his jeans. “You’ll make me feel indecent.”

“Oh, please, it’s just you.”

“I’ve seen you staring.”

She shrugged. “Only when I decide you’re worth staring at. Other than that, I’m a perfectly proper lady.” He snorted.

Ronan had barely finished putting his shirt on when she grabbed his arm. “Why’d you check him, Ronan? You’d never hurt Gansey.”

He tugged his arm out of her grasp and sat down on the bench to tie his shoes. She sat down with him. “Maybe it’s time for us to stop treating him like someone who needs to be coddled. I’ve seen you watch animal planet; animals raised in captivity can never be released back into the wild.”

She stared at him. “We’re not talking about endangered lemurs here, Lynch.”

“No. We’re talking about Gansey, who is an Exy player. Exy players get checked.”

Blue sighed and fiddled with a strand of her dark hair. A line of worry appeared on her forehead. She looked tired. “My mom said she saw this coming. I know we joke all the time about her being psychic, but I really just hoped her that her ‘mother’s intuition’ about Gansey’s luck would be wrong.” She turned to him. “The way he looked after you checked him… it was calm.”

“Isn’t that what we want?” Ronan knew the answer as well as she did.

She spoke it aloud. “It is! I just… That was _you_ , Ronan - somebody he trusts, in a place he feels comfortable. Of course I want him to get his confidence back. Of course I want him to be able to play again. But I’m afraid that he’s going to get these ideas of going out there, and then he’s going to be faced with those asshholes and he’s going to get hurt. Maybe not physically, but emotionally.”

“No one can stop Gansey when he gets an idea in his head, Blue. Not even us.”

“I know that. But I’m not letting them get to him again. I need you to promise me something.”

Ronan bit back the urge to laugh. Of course she did. That’s what a lot of people wanted him to do these days, to promise them things; that he would help them, that he would teach them, that he would do something for them. Everyone needed something. But this was about Gansey…

“What is it?” he asked her.

Blue gripped his wrist. “Promise me that you’ll help me stop Kavinsky from ruining him again. I don’t care if I get carded, I’m not letting that bastard anywhere near him, and I’m sure as hell not letting him play any mind games.”

“You want me… to protect him?”

She nodded. “I know it’s just that one game that’s coming up soon, but who knows what kinds of stuff Kavinsky will have in store for him. I can’t be with him all the time, and I… I need someone who’s not afraid to break rules if he has to.”

Ronan thought about his promise to his brothers. _I promise I won’t do anything stupid and reckless out of spite._ But if he did something stupid and reckless out of duty… out of friendship and camaraderie… that wasn’t really spite, was it?

“I’ll do it. I promise.”

Blue smiled at him. “Thanks. I know how much he means to you, especially if he’s worth nearly getting arrested for trashing the Hornets’ cars.”

Ronan slung his bag over his shoulder and huffed out a laugh. “No one has any proof that that was me, maggot. Not a trace.”

She winked. “Let me walk you to your dorm.”

***

By the time Ronan had left to head to Cabeswater, it was raining. The drops fell in quick, cool, patterns in the darkness, and Ronan was only aware of them because of the way they chilled his skin and made sounds against the pavement. The walk from his dorms to the arena wasn’t that long, but when he got there, his shirt was wet all along his shoulders and back. One consolation was that when Adam arrived, he was even more soaked. Drops of water dripped from his hair down his neck.

Ronan, who already hated shirts, decided that he disliked damp ones even more, and took his off.

Parrish did the same.

Ronan told him that they were going to be working on evading other players. "It would be better if we could practice with the backliners during a scrimmage, but with the size of our team..." He gave Adam the ball and the instructions "Don't let me take it from you."

Adam nodded and took off down the court, towards the home goal. Ronan caught up with him easily and stick-checked him, making the ball fly out of his racquet. Ronan picked it up and brandished it. "Nice try, Parrish."

Adam flushed and moved to check him back. Ronan dodged. The problem with this arrangement was that they were both offensive players; each of them were imagining the other as a backliner. They both moved like they wanted the ball for themselves, while real backliners always knew that their only goal was to keep the ball away from the opposing strikers and send it to their own. Ronan told Adam this as he passed the ball back.

"I was supposed to be a backliner," he mentioned as he caught up with Adam again. "Dad thought it would be nice to have each of his children on a different place in the field. Then he realized he would never have a complete set of any position and made me a striker."

"I can't imagine growing up like that," Adam grunted as he checked him. "Always having something to be."

Ronan passed him the ball back. "I can't imagine growing up any other way. Granted, I think the press has more photos of me as a child than my mother..."

Adam made a sound. "I think my mom only has one picture of me."

"Was it good?" Ronan blocked him and moved to get the ball.

Adam ducked to the side, out of his grasp. "Bad haircut. I was eight." He stepped back, smiling at Ronan and the fact that he had successfully evaded him. Ronan used this distraction to check him, knocking him over and taking the ball.

"I'm squinting in half of my pictures. A lot of idiot photographers can't remember to turn down the fucking flash." He offered his hand to Adam and pulled him up. "A tip: never celebrate your victories until after the fact."

Adam frowned a little, rubbing his bare arm and checking for injuries. "You sound like Declan," he said mournfully.

Ronan shrugged. "We had the same teacher. Now stop licking your wounds and do it again. Better."

Ronan passed him the ball again and they repeated the process. Adam would run and dodge, but once Ronan was in his face, he couldn't help the loss of possession. Ronan would bump him and stick-check him and intercept his movements. At one point, he changed the objective of the exercise; Adam had to score before Ronan could take it from him. After that, his performance improved, but Ronan still felt a little frustrated.

This was kindergarten to him. He knew that it was different than it was on the court; there was no passing, it was just Adam being the sole target. But still. Ronan had begun Exy with footwork and shooting and passing. He had been practicing the basics for two years before he was even the lowest age requirement for recreational teams. This, this dancing around other players like a fucking ballerina was something that he had learned as a child and had only improved upon over the years. But Adam wasn't dancing. He was just stalling Ronan's advances and shooting before he inevitably lost the ball.

"Why don't you just check me?" Ronan growled after he once again took the ball. "Keep it out of my reach and stop me from bothering you."

Adam brushed a piece of hair away from his face. "I... don't like checking."

"So you'd rather be checked?"

"I'm not exactly a fan of that either, but I can handle it."

"You wouldn't have to if you would just check me."

"I don't want to hurt you. You're not wearing padding."

"Do you want me to put some on?"

"No, I just... I'm not going to check you. I'll find another way, so just stop asking me!"

Ronan looked at him for a while, studying his expression after his outburst. Adam’s mouth was clamped shut, and his eyes looked like a cornered animal’s, shiny and wide. His whole body was tense, as if he was preparing himself for something. Did he think that Ronan was going to say no? Was he giving him that authority? Ronan spread his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Let’s just take a break. We’ll figure this out some other time.”

Adam hesitated, but eventually nodded and followed Ronan over to the side of the court. The two of them sat down in the spot Ronan usually occupied during their practice time, looking out at the rest of the court, which was completely empty. Ronan traced his finger along the wooden floor and remembered the first time he had come here. There had been a completely different team of Ravens, all smiling and playing around with each other while Declan spoke to the coach. Ronan had seen all of them and thought about what the press called them: Raven Men, boys who had all come from Aglionby and had only leveled up in their lives. He had been excited to join them in two years, his father promising to come coach them.

Now his team was half that size, he had no father, he had a wrongful coach and a tragic team, and he certainly didn’t feel like a man, but… Cabeswater was the closest thing he had to home at that moment.

The two boys sat against the wall in silence, each obviously lost in thought, but not privvy to what the other was thinking. Ronan watched Adam fiddle with his discarded shirt, picking at the hem of it. This close to him, under the fluorescent lights of the arena, Ronan noticed that he had a light sprinkle of freckles across his shoulders. _Probably spent a lot of time outside,_ he figured. Ronan remembered a time when he could hardly be convinced to come inside, even by his father. Ronan had never gotten freckles, though. He’d only ever burned.

“What did Blue want to say to you?” Adam asked him carefully.

“Hmm?”

“She obviously wanted to say something to you. We were all willing to wait, but she just shooed us away. Why?”

Ronan rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. He didn’t know if he should tell Adam that. Had Blue wanted their promise to be a secret? She _had_ gotten him alone, but she’d never specified… “She wanted me to make sure Kavinsky doesn’t get to Gansey again.”

Adam nodded thoughtfully. “Why just you? We’d all do our best to protect him.”

“She wanted someone who cared enough about Gansey to screw the rules. I have no problem doing that, because the rules are only slightly less stupid than the people who enforce them. The board should have kicked every fucking member of that team out of the NCAA. Hell, that team should have been completely fucking dismantled years ago. It’s a pile of crooks. Gray knows that, but of course he’s too much of a fucking coward to do anything about it. He just wants to sit back, think he’s a good person, and seduce Sargent’s mom with shitty Kinks music.”

Adam snorted. “What do you have against Gray anyway? Why do you hate him so much?”

Ronan sighed. He knew this conversation was going to happen, or at least some variation of it. Nobody was ever happy with just the media reports, so Ronan always ended up being asked to explain some part of the story he would much rather stay away from. He’d never had it asked from the Gray angle, though.

“You really want to know?” Adam nodded. “I hate him so damn much because he’s the reason my father is dead. Happy?”

Saying that was almost some kind of morbid joke. There was nothing _happy_ about the story at all, and no one was ever satisfied with such a short answer.

He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and elaborated. “When I was still in high school, and Declan was in his first year here, Dad promised that he was going to come coach the Ravens. This was at the same time that the Hornets were being coached by the most vile man on the fucking earth, Colin Greenmantle. You heard of him?” Adam nodded. Of course he had. Greenmantle was almost as famous as his father, maybe more since Niall’s death. “Yeah, well he and my dad hated each other. They were in the same business, too similar in some ways, completely different in others. My dad was a better coach and Greenmantle knew it. One day, they arranged a little scrimmage between his Hornets and my dad’s current players - my brothers and I included - and we won, obviously. The Hornets couldn’t take the humiliation, not on live TV anyway.”

Ronan saw Adam struggle with the urge to ask the question ‘What happened next?’

“Most people don’t really care about this little piece of information, but Greenmantle had an assistant coach that year. One Mr. Dean Gray. After the game, there’s supposed to be a whole whack of security guards around the players and the coaches to prevent violence between teams. But this time…” Ronan took a breath. “I was there when it happened. Dad was supposed to come back with us, shake hands, take us home. But Gray showed up and told him that there was a coaches conference in some other room. I didn’t know what was going to happen at the time, but the look in his eyes was weird. I know now that he _knew_ something was up.

Gray took him away from the team, and as it turns out, Greenmantle and his team had been riling up their fans after the loss, provoking a riot. They let them know where my father was, they made sure he was away from where he was _supposed_ to be, where his _guards_ were, and _nobody_ called security. It was a set-up, and they killed him.” Ronan felt his breath become uneven. “I was the one who found his body when I looked for him.” That part was known to the media, but nobody could ever write down the way he had felt when saw his father, lifeless and bloody, left on the floor with the tire iron still beside him… like he was nothing.

There was silence between them, and Ronan knew Adam was speechless, unsure of how to react. No one ever knew how to react. Even the police hadn’t known how to treat the situation. More than twenty men had been locked away for disorderly conduct and assault, but the officials had missed the real culprits, the ones who had started it all. Ronan hadn’t missed it, however, which made it ten times worse when he had to stare at Gray’s face every single day.

“Gray did that?” Adam asked finally.

“He told the police he had no clue what was going to happen, that there had been some kind of misunderstanding and he truly believed he was supposed to take my father there. Greenmantle vouched for him and they both got off scot free. Gray even took my dad’s job with the Ravens.”

Adam’s eyes were stunned. “I’m surprised you haven’t left.”

Ronan laughed humourlessly. “I tried. Declan didn’t let me buy out my contract. He said that the last thing Dad would want was for us to be broken up.”

“Is that why you and him fight so much? Because he made you play with Gray?”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Among other things.”

Adam hummed. “You know, when I was little, you guys were like princes is my head. When I found out you were my age, I was so jealous. You’d hear all these stories of you flying around the world and meeting sports legends and doing frickin backflips while I was stuck in my t - in my house.”

Ronan smirked a little. “I can’t do a backflip.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I _can_ do a flip out of a tree and land on my feet, though. Also, the plane rides were long and Matthew can’t sit still for the life of him. Plus, most of the sports legends have giant egos and even bigger delusions. Never meet your heroes.”

Adam smirked back at him. He said wryly, “Yeah, I figured that out the day I got you as my roommate.”

Ronan grinned. “You saying I’m your hero, Parrish?”

Adam snorted. “I’m saying you’re not exactly the charming rogue character the media makes you out to be.”

“Well, you’re not as… overwhelmingly annoying as you are at first impression.”

Adam laughed. “What a compliment!”

Ronan smiled at him. “It’s better than what most people get out of me.”

“Oh, I know that.”

The two boys just sat there smiling, backs up against the wall of the court. Ronan didn’t think he’d ever seen Adam smile like that before - wide and elastic - and would never have expected it to come from being with _him_ or so close after talking about his father’s death. Ronan was grinning too, and _he_ never would have expected to be smiling after such a taxing conversation, but here he was. As Adam laughed, Ronan couldn’t help but see the lines of muscle on his torso move with each breath he took. He seemed more relaxed now, casually sprawled out against the wall, instead of the tight-backed way he had been sitting before. He looked good like that. Adam so rarely showed a side of himself that wasn’t cautious, noting everything and constantly deciding whether to speak his mind or bite his tongue.

 _Maybe it’s Exy that does that to him,_ Ronan thought. If it was Exy that could make a boy like Adam Parrish smile like that, then Ronan figured that violence and competition might not be the only things that the sport was good for.

In the silence of the arena, Ronan could hear the rain pick up outside. Adam heard it too, because he groaned. “My shirt was almost dry,” he said. Ronan imagined him putting the shirt back on and walking out into the rain, his dusty hair almost immediately becoming soaked, dripping, his shirt sticking to the lines of his torso…

“If you go out now, I’ll go with you,” he told him.

“Really?” Adam stood up and glanced at the door.

“Yeah.” Ronan stood up as well, and walked over to the arena’s exit. “We can race.”

Adam laughed. “Oh, and get a face full of mud after I slip and fall? No thanks. Then again, if it means winning against you at something…”

Ronan snorted. “You wish.” He reached out and punched Adam’s shoulder lightly. “You know what, Parrish? You’re alright.”

Adam flinched a little when Ronan hit him, but when he looked up, he was beaming that bright grin again. Ronan felt something flutter inside his chest at the sight.

“You’re still horrible,” Adam said playfully, and then they broke out into a run towards their dorm, shielding themselves from the downpour.

Ronan Lynch kept his promises.

Ronan Lynch was one of the best Exy players in the world.

Ronan Lynch was _not_ some blushing idiot with a crush.

                                                                                         …Yet.


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! The countdown is over and the Ravens are finally going to face off with... duh Duh DUH the Hornets! This chapter was originally a lot longer, but my beta suggested that I split it in two, so technically the second "half" (more like a third) of this segment will be released as my next update :)

It was the last practice before the game against the Hornets, and everyone was freaking out. They weren’t showing it outright, but Adam could see it in everyone’s actions. There were moments when Gansey would zone out and stare at the wall, eyes blank. Blue never seemed to be happy with anyone’s gear - she had come up to Adam about twelve times to adjust the straps on his body armor, pulling them tight before moving away. Noah was fidgeting, Tad was rambling, Henry was arguing, and the Lynches were nowhere to be found.

Technically, Adam _did_ know where they were. They were at church. Apparently, they never skipped mass, even when it was the last practice they had as a team before all hell broke loose. Noah told him that even though they didn’t have Sunday practices now unless they were necessary, last year there had been more of them, and the three brothers hadn’t showed up to a single one.

“Gray can’t tell them what to do,” he’d said. “He knows that. They know that. Really, the three of them just humour him.”

Adam thought about that. Ronan had told him once that Gray’s complacency had a lot to do with their skill and fame, but now that Adam knew about Gray’s hand in Niall Lynch’s death, he wondered… How much of it stemmed from their popularity and how much of it stemmed from his own guilt?

Adam shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Church or no church, he wouldn’t have expected Ronan to ditch Gansey this close to when he needed him most. Then again, Ronan _had_ been doing quite a lot of ditching lately. The entire past week, Adam had gotten the impression that Ronan was avoiding him. He skipped English class, he sat as far as he could from him at Nino’s, and instead of ever being in their dorm room, he was always somewhere else, doing god knows what.

_Maybe it’s because he feels vulnerable,_ Adam thought. _He did tell me a lot about his past._

Ronan would come around.

Hopefully.

Ever since the team had found out about the game against the Hornets, everyone was so strung up. Adam just wanted to find a place where he wouldn’t have to feel waves of discomfort come off of everybody, but sadly his entire friend group was part of the same mess. Maybe after this, he would go visit Blue’s family. Persephone had been wanting to show him how to make her famous pie… but, no. The Sargents were too close to Exy too. He could probably pick up an extra shift at work instead. But he-

“Parrish,” said a familiar voice behind him.

Adam turned around to see Ronan, standing there without gear. It was obvious that he had just come from church; he wore a button-down shirt instead of his usual tee, and he looked like he had actually given _some_ care when he assembled the outfit. Adam felt his mouth drop open, but he couldn’t decide if the surprise came from Ronan’s appearance, the fact that he had showed up at all, or that he was actually speaking to Adam.

“You’re late,” was all he said.

Ronan smirked. “Friendly as ever, Parrish. I came back as soon as the service was over… and I don’t think I’m sorry for missing this little scene.” He gestured to Henry, who was holding up a clipboard and frantically displaying something to Tad.

Adam sighed. “It was worse when we were actually playing.” He remembered the aggression coming from each and every one of Blue’s throws and the way Henry and Tad had gone around the cones like they were running from something. Gansey performed every move like a machine, but constantly lost himself in thought. “You’ve missed half the practice.”

“We on break?” he asked. Adam nodded. Gray had all but given up on being able to do anything _useful_ without the Lynches. Every second that passed just seemed to add to the team’s anxiety.

“I’m getting changed,” Ronan told him. “Get everyone back on the court.”

Adam wanted to argue. Gray wasn’t even _there_ at the moment - he’d gone back to his office. But Ronan was already gone and Adam found himself doing as he said. By the time Ronan and his brothers were done getting changed, the team was assembled on the court.

“First thing’s first!” Ronan said loudly, stepping away from his brothers. “I know you’re all freaked out. You’re freaked out because of what happened and you’re scared it’s gonna happen again. But this… this _fear_ is what they want! And I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to give them that satisfaction.”

“Tad!” He pointed at their teammate, who was repeatedly adjusting his gloves. “Do you think that if you walk on that court tomorrow, playing with your gear like a newbie, that they’re going to take you seriously? That they’re not going to take advantage of your nerves?”

Tad shook his head.

“No! I didn’t fucking think so. They _want_ us to feel like this, because they know that if we’re all jittery, we’re going to be easy pickings. They _know_ that if we lose, then they get the last laugh. Hell, they’ll _enjoy_ seeing us so scattered.” He marched up to his teammates, looking every one of them in the eye. “So here’s what we’re gonna do; we’re gonna get our shit together, we’re going to give it our all, and we are going show them that the Ravens don’t answer to a bunch of tyrants!”

Blue whooped, squeezing Noah’s shoulder’s.

Ronan grinned. “Everybody get your ass up and pull yourself together. We can do this!”

The team cheered and got to their feet, their nerves miraculously replaced with energy. Usually, this would be the time where Gray would blow his whistle and take over the momentum to give them something to do. Instead, everyone looked at Gansey. He was the closest thing to a coach that they had at the moment.

He looked bewildered as he took in the newfound enthusiasm. “Work on…” Something clicked in his head. “Why don’t we work on checking?”

The team hesitated, looking to Ronan for a second opinion. They had never worked on physical contact as a group. Usually that just came with playing a game. But Ronan didn’t shoot it down. Instead, he shrugged and said, “Get to it.”

The team split off and spread out around the court. Gansey instructed them to find a man and to play keep away, while maintaining possession by avoiding checks. He said that with a team as violent as the Hornets, the Ravens were going to have to know how to deal with getting checked hard and often. With such a small team, they couldn’t afford to have anyone get carded.

In a way, the exercise reminded Adam of his last practice with Ronan. It was the same game of evasion on one side, but there was also the side the Adam had refused… Once the ball was handed over to the other make-shift team, Adam may have to check someone to get it back.

He was being irrational. He was playing Exy - a sport just as violent as ice hockey. In that game, players got checked left and right, and Adam had known that since the day he first signed up for his recreational league. But in his junior league, there had been a strict anti-violence rule. If someone got knocked over, there were adults at the edge of their seats, ready to give a bandaid or break up a fight. Now… violence on the court was expected and while there were definitely punishments, there was only so much that the refs could stop. When Adam got checked, he was able to remember what setting he was in, and shake it off. But there was something about the thought of using his body to throw someone off that rubbed him the wrong way.

_We have body armour,_ he told himself. _And you’re not him. You’re not trying to hurt anybody._

_Not yet, maybe,_ said another voice in his mind. _But what if you start to enjoy it?_

Adam was not going to become his father, and if that meant avoiding confrontation on the court as much as possible, then he would do it.

He caught sight of Coach Gray quietly slipping back into into the arena, incredulous. He had no idea what was happening, but Adam did; Ronan had showed up, and within ten minutes he had changed the game.

The exercise started quickly, the ball being on the opposite team as Adam’s. They moved around the court, passing it from person to person before Blue found an opportunity and slammed into Tad, taking possession. Then it was given to Adam, who chucked it across the court as fast as he could before someone came after him. It went to Ronan, who managed to toss it around multiple times with his brothers easily before remembering the point of the exercise and giving it to someone else.

At one point, the ball ended up in Henry’s racquet, right beside Adam’s. In the split second it took for Henry to catch and aim, Adam’s eyes accidentally found Ronan’s. _Do it,_ Ronan’s serious expression said. _Prove you can do it._ Adam felt himself wince a little when he hesitated long enough that Henry passed the ball away without interference. Ronan looked away.

_Damn it, Ronan_ , Adam thought to himself. There was a certain inadequacy that only Ronan was capable of instilling in him. With a single compliment from his roommate, Adam would feel like he was on top of the world, only to fall all the way into the dirt when Ronan took away his approval.

One day, Adam was going to have that kind of confidence all by himself.

The rest of the practice passed, and Adam had successfully managed not to check anybody. He was almost pleased by his accomplishments, even though he knew he was just being difficult. The Hornets were violent, and Adam might as well have been holding up a sign saying “Hit me! Hit me! I won’t hit back!”

During the entire time it took him to get changed, Adam’s head was filled with warring thoughts; his pride clashed with his doubts, his knowledge that the team had worked to the best of their ability fought his fear for the upcoming game, his memory of the cocky athletes he had met on his first day betrayed the image of the nervous kids he was standing with now. Nothing seemed completely certain. On one hand, the idea of facing these infamous Hornets filled him with a sense of thrill. He wondered what it would be like to meet them in person, to possibly win against them. On the other hand, he was afraid. It was a new kind of fear, too, different from the kind he had lived in Henrietta. Back there, it had been a matter of survival and stepping on glass. Here… he wasn’t just afraid for himself. Now, he had a whole team that he cared about and wanted to protect, and he wasn’t sure how he would feel if he had to watch any one of them get hurt.

And to make things worse, every time Adam turned around, he was greeted by Ronan’s intense stare.

Fuck.

***

There was nothing quite like the experience of getting into the Raven’s travel bus for a multiple hour drive. While the team’s mood was definitely less happy than it usually was, the process of getting everyone and everything ready was still the same. Adam had to wake up at six and grab an early breakfast before making sure he had anything he needed for the day. Everyone was expected at the bus soon to pack up and get on the road.

As Adam lugged his equipment from his locker into the storage compartment, he saw his once-again-missing roommate beside his brothers, surrounded by the Monmouth cheerleaders.

The brothers’ reactions to the squad was almost comically different. Declan was leaning back and soaking up the attention, his arm around Ashley’s shoulder not stopping him from being suave with every single girl. Matthew was chatting enthusiastically with a different set of cheerleaders, blushing when they hugged him and laughing over whatever conversation they were having. And then there was Ronan, who seemed… characteristically grumpy.

Three girls were practically fawning all over him and his expression was completely unimpressed. Adam almost laughed. One of the girls - Adam thought her name was Karen - pulled out her phone and started gesturing to it. Ronan just stared at her. That was Ronan for you; he either paid attention to every single thing you did so that he could comment on it later or he didn’t even bother acknowledging something you said to him. There was no in between. Adam shrugged it off and shoved his bag in with the rest.

He checked his watch, wondering where his friends were. They had decided to hang out at Fox Way before the trip, but they should have met up with him around now. Henry and Gray were already on the other side of the bus, checking lists. The only other one who wasn’t there was Tad, and he was almost always late.

Adam turned around again, and watched the scene with the cheerleaders. The group around Ronan had grown and now he just looked plain… uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be obvious for most people, but Adam had grown used to Ronan’s sour moods. He knew what he looked like when he was being grumpy and this wasn’t it. The girls were all grinning at him, but now the trio had turned into a crowd, all clammering away.

Without thinking, Adam walked towards them.

As he got closer, he could hear the chatter.

“Come on, Ronan!” one of them was saying. “Just one for my Instagram!”

Ronan glowered. “No.”

Another girl leaned against his shoulder, ignoring his faint grimace. “Pretty please? I think we look so good together.”

“Ronan looks good with anyone, Sara. It has nothing to do with you.”

Sara stuck her tongue out. “You forget who has the mad selfie skills.”

Then came another round of begging for a picture to post on social media.

As Adam approached them, he felt pity for Ronan. He remembered the way he had looked in the arena during their night practice, talking about his childhood. It wasn’t visible at first, but Ronan _did_ have emotions other than anger. He had casually mentioned the number of pictures photographers had taken of him over the years, but Adam wondered how deep that went -  how many photos had been forced upon him by the press and his adoring fans, begging him to pose for their cameras. Right now, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere but that bench with those cheerleaders.

“Excuse me?” Adam said to them, ignoring Declan’s frown and everyone else’s look of surprise. The cheerleaders quickly turned away from him, returning their attention to the Lynches.

Adam had used to wonder about what it would be like to get a picture with the brothers, before his forced removal from Exy had made him put them out of his mind. Now he just had a feeling he would have been one of the thousands that had shoved a camera in Ronan’s face.

He placed himself in front of Ronan’s entourage. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

One of the girls giggled as if he had just told them a joke. “Oh, just classic Ronan.” She patted his arm like she was his friend. “This one’s refusing to take a picture with us for our facebook page.” With a wink, she said, “We’ll get him to warm up.”

Adam crossed his arms, not missing the fact that this girl was trying to pass off harassment as his roommate being ‘difficult’. He didn’t even bother clipping his accent when he said, “Well, obviously your mama didn’t raise you right.” The girl frowned, looking to her friends and back to Adam. “Didn’t she ever tell you that no means no?”

Karen laughed awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable with being confronted. “It’s just a picture!” she exclaimed. “No harm done.”

Adam didn’t relent. “If he doesn’t wanna talk a picture with you, then he doesn’t have to. And I’d suggest you all get a move on anyway; it’s time to load the bus, not pose with the jocks.”

A couple of the girls scoffed, but they all scurried away, letting their comments of “I thought he was the pretty one, but what a jerk!” and “I was totally getting around to it, but a selfie only takes a second!” drift his way. When Adam turned back to Ronan, he was frowning.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he grumbled.

“I know,” Adam said. “But it looked like they were bothering you.”

Ronan looked away. “You didn’t have to go all knight-in-shining-armour on me. I can handle myself.”

“I never said you couldn-”

Adam never got to finish what he said, because his friends appeared on the lot, with every single inhabitant of Fox Way in tow. They were all showing off bright smiles, and Adam was glad to see them, but he also knew what their presence meant. Usually, it was only Maura who accompanied the team to away games, ready to administer first aid in case one of their players was injured. Luckily, that hadn’t happened so far this season, but the fact that someone had decided that _all_ of the physical therapists might be necessary rubbed Adam the wrong way.

Persephone patted his shoulder once before walking directly onto the bus, starting the wave of everyone finding their own seats.

The ladies of Fox Way got on first, all sitting up near the front, followed by the team, and then the cheerleaders. Adam figured he’d be sitting next to Brian again - his impromptu seatmate for all the recent games. He had caught on pretty quickly that Brian had become a mascot-like figure in the cheer squad, being the only guy and all, but Adam didn’t understand the reason behind his black sheep treatment beyond that. Ronan obviously hated him, but Ronan hated most things. Adam thought Brian was nice, and that his opinions on certain societal norms was actually pretty interesting. Yeah, he was a hipster and refused to eat anything out of non-recyclable plastic, but other than that-

Adam felt himself being shoved into a seat. It took him a moment to process his fall, and catch himself before he hit his head on the window, but when he looked up, it took him longer to process who was sitting down beside him.

It wasn’t Brian. It was _Ronan._

Ronan was actually sitting with him out of his own free will. Ronan had actually _chosen_ to sit with Adam in a confined space, surrounded by multiple people, for more than an hour, even after his moodiness back in the courtyard. The notion that that was his reality took longer to process than it should have. Everything immediately snapped into place, however, when Ronan rolled his eyes.

“The bus is full,” he told Adam.

Adam frowned. “It wasn’t when you sat down.”

“It was about to be. And I wasn’t going to be caught sitting with Brian.”

Adam looked behind them and saw Brian sitting with Noah, Ronan’s frequent seatmate, close to the rest of the cheerleaders. In fact, he was across from Declan and Matthew, and close to Blue and Gansey as well. Adam and Ronan were closer to Gansey, but not enough to warrant moving from what would have been a perfect seat. So, why had Ronan chosen… Adam shook his head. There was no point trying to understand his teammate’s reasoning.

Once the bus started moving, Adam’s nerves began to grow. He was losing the detachment that came with telling himself that the game against the Hornets was in the future. The ‘future’ was getting closer and closer with each mile that they drove and there was nothing that he could do about it.

After fifteen minutes of driving, Ronan turned to Adam. Solemnly, he said, “They’re going to check you hard.”

Adam had figured as much.

“If you panic, it’ll only make it worse. Figure out which way is up and go from there. I’m not going to tell you to check them first, but… you’re at a disadvantage if you don’t.” Ronan put his earbuds in and turned away.

People were chatting for the rest of the drive, but to Adam, it felt eerily silent.

***

Blackwell University was nothing like Adam had expected it to be. Subconsciously, he had been convincing himself that the Hornet’s ‘nest’ would be more like a dark castle; everything black, people walking around with murder in their eyes, constant stormy weather. Instead, it looked like a normal college campus, not far off from Monmouth. There was the same structure of buildings: a dining hall, separate offices, lecture halls, etc, but the style was definitely different. Where Monmouth was all classy, aged brick buildings, Blackwell was new and flashy. With every step Adam took, he felt like he was walking through a facade, like the true evil of the school was hidden underneath the glamour.

When they unloaded the bus, the Ravens were met by the cheerleading squad, a gang of students wearing yellow and black colours that made them look scarily like a swarm of bees.

“Welcome!” said a girl who Adam suspected was the head cheerleader. “If you’ll come with us and bring your gear, we’ll show you where you can set up.”

The squad directed them to Blackwell’s arena, and told them that their change rooms were on the left. The team had use of the court while the Hornets warmed up elsewhere, as was the courtesy of most away games. Adam looked over at Ronan when the cheerleaders left, and saw him eyeing the stands. He wondered if his roommate was reliving the painful memories of this arena, or planning to get revenge on their court, or both. When Adam looked around, he saw vibrant colours and dark seats; a court like any other. He wondered what the rest of his team saw.

The Ravens wasted no time in warming up, not wanting to throw away a second before their dreaded game. He didn’t say it aloud, but Adam thought the exercise was kind of pointless beyond preparing his body. They had practiced so much back in Cabeswater and had given every single game their all; if there was any issue that was going to doom their game against the Hornets, they obviously didn’t know about it, and they obviously wouldn’t be able to stop it by passing balls to each other at the last minute. It was easy to see that his team thought the same.

Adam’s eyes kept wandering to Ronan without him trying to. His roommate was straying a bit from his usual habit of standing with his brothers to stay close to Gansey. It was obvious that the desire to stay close was mutual; Adam didn’t know which one of them needed the proximity more. He didn’t think the arrangement was simply Ronan’s promise to protect Gansey, though Adam had seen Ronan using his fists, and he wouldn’t want to step too close to the two of them at the moment. Not while Gansey’s shoulders were so tense and Ronan looked like he was waiting for any excuse to _hit_.

At one point after the warm-up, Ronan’s eyes met his. It took Adam a moment to realize the exact moment they made contact, because he was too busy watching Ronan to notice that Ronan was watching him.

The only time he had ever seen Ronan looking like that was during that night practice in Cabeswater, when Ronan had told him of his family. It made Adam terrified to mess up.

Even if Adam’s pride could handle a loss against the Hornets, could Ronan’s heart?

Adam looked away. With so much going on, he couldn’t let Ronan’s mess of feelings get into his head. Ronan had once told him that he wasn’t something that could be figured out, and Adam believed him. There were the easy parts of him that Adam could see: the friend, the brother, the emotionally stunted Exy player, and the asshole. Beyond that was far too complicated, and if Adam got himself wrapped up in the enigma that was his roommate, he would never get out of it.

Even as he told himself that it was better to stay away, Adam felt himself walking up to his teammate and placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to win this,” he told him, and he was surprised at how confident his voice sounded.

Gray’s whistle blew, and the team walked over to form a huddle. So close to the game, the tension between all of them was thick enough to cut with a knife. The only thing that would make any of them feel better was for the game to be over, and Gray knew that, but he still tried his best with the pep talk.

“Listen. I know you’re all scared. You’ve been anticipating this game for weeks and the tension is above the roof - but I’ve seen each and everyone of you play. You’re better than last year, you’re more focused on being a team, you know what the Hornets are capable of and you’re not going to make the same mistakes again. You’re more prepared.” He looked around the huddle, making sure his eye contact lingered long enough for effect. “When I look at each of you, I see some determined young adults who fight for what they want. You’ve fought for the ability to get back on court, you’ve fought to keep this team on the board, hell, you’ve even fought each other.”

Gray laughed. “I know this game may seem like a nightmare, but when it comes down to it, it’s a bunch of college students on the court, playing Exy. You all have each other’s backs, and we,” he gestured to the Fox Way ladies, “have your backs too. I’m proud of you, and I know that after this game, I’ll only be prouder. So give it your all. You can do this.”

Adam exhaled. Feeling brave, he stuck his hand into the middle of the huddle. “Go Ravens,” he said. The rest of the team piled their hands on top of his and repeated, “Go Ravens!” while throwing them up into the air.

The spectators had already begun to file into the arena, buzzing with anticipation. Both cheerleading squads were already on the court as well, beginning their routines to pump up the crowd. Somewhere in the change room to the right of the Ravens’, the Hornets were having their own huddle, soon to come out and face off before the game started.

Adam gave his friends one more heartfelt look before following Gray off the court. Once they were behind the barrier, he saw the Hornets exit their change room and file into their own bench section.

For all the horror they'd inflicted, the Hornets didn't look too different from the other teams Adam had seen that season. Anyone could look mean with a body that big and a stack of body armor to look even bigger. One thing that Adam felt uneasy about, however, was the way they moved; not only did the Hornets walk with arrogance and aggression… they moved as one. He may just have been putting ideas into his own head, making himself afraid.

Still, the Hornets’ ‘hive mind’ was something they were known for across multiple sports platforms. If it was an act, it was convincing.

A ref gave the cue for the two teams to face off. Adam took a breath to steady himself and filed in court with the rest of the Ravens. In front of him was Prokopenko, a backliner he had taken the liberty of reading all about. Beside Adam was Blue, who was next to Gansey, and across from him was… Joseph Kavinsky. He wasn't that big up close, but his smile underneath his helmet was more poisonous than Ronan's on his worst days.

As the announcer spoke, Kavinsky leaned in to say, “Long time no see, Gansey-man.”

Ronan didn't step forward, but every muscle in his body was coiled like he was anticipating an attack… and ready to turn it around. “Watch it.”

Kavinsky smiled as if he were indulging a child's outburst. “Hey now, I'm just bein’ friendly.” He turned back to Gansey. “I know you like to bring your dog everywhere, but now I see you brought your pussy too.” His eyes raked over Blue's body.

Blue looked ready to kill him.

After the signal came for the teams to shake hands, Kavinsky sent a look Adam's way. He chuckled. “Aren't you just bringing in all the strays,” he drawled as he turned away.

To hell with Blue’s wishes, Adam was ready to kill him first.

Instead he took his spot on the bench and watched the game begin. Unsurprisingly, Ronan and Declan passed the ball between them at lightning speed and claimed the first goal. It was as impressive as usual, but it didn't last long. Typically after the brothers gained possession, they managed to score multiple goals before losing the ball. This time, though, Ronan only got two shots in before a Hornet sent him to the ground.

Beside him, Adam saw Gansey wince.

Within the next ten minutes, it was obvious that the Hornets played dirty. In normal games, a check every five minutes was normal, more if the game was heated, less if one team was better than the other. But the Hornets… they showed no restraint. They tried to toss the Ravens around like ragdolls, checking them both _for_ the ball and under the excuse of having had it a second before, even when it was obvious the Hornets knew the check was unnecessary. At one point, Declan was stick-checked by Prokopenko, and when he checked the Hornet back to get him out of his way, the other player took offense. It was surreal, the way Declan just accepted his punch without retaliation.

Declan was clearly unhappy about it, and having seen him and Ronan settle their differences, Adam would have expected more from him. But with only eight available players, they couldn't afford to have anyone get carded. The Hornets knew that too, and the realization of that made Ronan's speech about _targets_ enter Adam's brain.

Prokopenko was given a yellow card and sent back into the game. Adam's jaw dropped. His blow had struck Declan above the neck. He should have gotten a higher punishment for risking a concussion and inciting what could have been a brawl.

“Rumor has it that they bribe their refs,” Tad told him. Until then, he had been completely silent - another thing Adam was going to add to the list of strange behaviors the Hornets brought about in his team.

While he was on the bench, Adam watched Gansey stare at the court. His friend's face was blank and unreadable as he watched the game unfold. Somehow, that was more concerning than any reaction of fear or sadness.

Once the first twenty minutes were up, Blue and Declan appeared through the entrance to the benches to switch places. When the oldest Lynch took off his helmet, Adam could see the telltale coloring of what would soon be a nasty bruise. Prokopenko would have had to rattle his helmet to do that. He should have been taken out of the game. Adam sighed; there was no point whinging about fairness in a game like this. He just tightened his gear and hopped onto the court, ready to play.

Ronan sent Adam a look from across the starting line, but Adam couldn't decipher what it meant before Kavinsky served and the game was back in motion. Luckily, Matthew was still the goal keeper, because Adam soon discovered that they were in need of his skills. From the side, it was easy to be distracted by the Hornets’ violence, but now in the middle of the action, he quickly found out that they were _fast._ They weren’t like the Lynches, but it was enough to throw Adam for a loop.

From the moment Kavinsky served, Adam was given no time to get used to his surroundings. It was like being tossed head first into a pit of… hornets.

The first real opportunity for possession came a few minutes in, when a large player gained possession of the ball right in front of Adam. He tried to run to the half-court line, but Adam tailed him, attempting to block him. If he just checked him then he would be able to get the ball and pass it to Ronan. Skov was big enough for it not to hurt. But as Adam approached him, he felt the strong feeling of reluctance wash over him, making him not touch the man who could probably kill him. As he hesitated, Skov saw him and realized what he was doing. Adam was close enough to be checked instead and be out of his way. He watched as Skov approached him and angled his shoulder for a hit. Adam had never actually seen anyone go through the process of shoving him and it seemed to happen in slow motion; Skov noticing him, Skov preparing, Skov moving closer, and then… nothing.

Adam opened his eyes, unaware that he’d shut them, to see Skov on the ground and Ronan getting up from on top of him. He sent the ball up to Noah and gave Adam a fleeting look before running down-court, leaving him to shake off his daze.

Ronan had just checked Skov _for Adam._

He got his head back into the game and moved down-court himself, not letting himself wonder if Ronan’s actions came from compassion or strategy. By the time he was in the proper position, Ronan had already scored another goal. The goalie sent it back up-court, but Noah retrieved it and shot it to Adam, who caught it and flung it towards the goal. He watched it sail into the goal and light the borders up red.

They were winning so far.

Like a jinx, that thought cued the goalie to successfully send the ball to Kavinsky. After that, Adam knew that the Ravens’ backliners were going to have to fight to get possession back if Matthew couldn’t. Adam watched as they pelted ball after ball at the goal, suddenly lining up all their shots in a way that maximized their attempts. Matthew swatted them away and tried to send them back to the Ravens, but the Hornets had, punnily enough, swarmed. If anyone else had been in there, surely they would have given up about a hundred points and possibly fainted. Finally, the Hornets got a point, and on the rebound, Tad managed to send the ball down-court and get it into Ronan’s net.

Ronan was better than Jiang, the Hornet’s goalie, and so he managed to score twice before he was checked. The ball found its way into Adam’s racquet, but Jiang blocked him in his attempts and sent the ball back to the Hornets’ strikers, who managed to get another point from Matthew before the buzzer sounded.

It was the half-time break already.

Adam stumbled into the bench section after Ronan and Matthew, who were immediately confronted by Maura and Declan, discussing injuries and fatigue. Adam was used to being tired at the half-time break, when the adrenaline in his body slowly calmed, but this was new. He felt like he had been running through a maze for an hour, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He supposed it was worse for Matthew and Ronan, who had been on court the entire time. Hell, this was yet another game where Ronan only got the fifteen minute break, after the team had decided that he worked better with Adam than Declan did.

He plopped down onto the bench and tried to regain his sanity from wherever the Hornets had taken it. Gansey edged closer to him. “You did good,” he said.

“Yeah?” Adam smiled. He noticed that for all his sitting, his friend hadn’t taken his helmet off.

“It’s freaky, isn’t it? When they all go after the goal like that.” Gansey shuddered. “Ronan says they’re hiding their weak defense behind a strong offense. Apparently the trick is having the means to counteract that.”

Adam chuckled. “I think a lot of Ronan’s advice is good in theory.” Living up to his expectations on the other hand…

“At least he knows what he’s talking about.”

The two of them nodded in agreement, and Gansey moved along to other team members, leaving Adam to his much-needed bench and water bottle. The break passed far too quickly and then they were back on the court, playing again.

This time, Adam was given the serve, so he was able to shoot the ball immediately to the Ravens’ current strikers instead of risking the Hornets’ getting it. With Matthew taking a break and Noah in the goal, the last thing they needed was another swarm. Adam didn’t know if Noah would be able to handle that many shots.

Declan scored two goals in the first five minutes, adding to the Ravens’ healthy head start, but that was the end of their good luck before the game descended into mayhem. Ronan tried to score after Declan, but got checked hard. He retaliated, trying to get the ball back from the backliner, but didn’t manage it before getting knocked aside. The Hornets ended up with possession of the ball, and then Noah was in for it.

It was obvious once they came at it him that this had been part of their strategy; wait for the stronger goalie to be taken off and focus all their energy on the new one. They scored twice as Noah tried to fend off their attack. The Ravens’ backliners weren’t giving up, though. Adam watched as Blue acted like some kind of warrior queen, throwing them off of her and trying to stop them from advancing. Finally, Noah managed to send the ball to Adam without being blocked.

Adam soon realized that he never stood a chance of getting it to the strikers, though, because out of nowhere, Kavinsky appeared and checked him to the floor. He must have been waiting.

Blue got ahold of the ball, and she was checked too, but not before passing it to Tad. He sent it up to Ronan. The Lynch brothers scored again, but the two of them were also checked. Even as they fired it between them to stop a loss of possession, the backliners used the two second rule to batter them. Adam could now see what was happening with all the checks. It was dirty, dirty play. They were _egging the Ravens on._ The Hornets knew that with a team so small, they couldn’t have anyone go off court. They wanted someone to fight them back and get carded.

Adam was sure that his team knew this - they must have. Still, out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw Ronan getting aggressive with Prokopenko, the one that had been pummeling him and getting in his space. Ronan lost yet another shot because of his proximity and Adam watched as he barreled into him, knocking Prokopenko over. He didn’t even get a good punch in before a ref was running over and pulling them apart. Prokopenko took a swing at Ronan’s face, but Ronan stopped him from causing real damage. It looked like he was a second away from punching him back, and as the ref grabbed him, it seemed like he was considering taking a swing at _him_ too.

The ref held up two yellow cards, one for each of them. Adam wanted to get angry at Ronan for being so reckless. Couldn’t he have seen what their plan was? Why did he give them what they wanted? But as he felt his own annoyance at the other team light a fire in his chest, he realized that he couldn’t blame Ronan for snapping.

The game was restarted from their current position, and the Hornets got the ball. Adam winced as he saw the Hornets’ strikers and dealer line themselves up again, preparing for a swarm. They fired the ball at Noah again, who at this point looked like he might collapse. Whenever he caught the ball and tried to send it to his own team, the strikers knocked the Ravens out of the way and took it back, firing again. Even when they got the point, they managed to regain the ball on the rebound. They got another four points.

Blue got the final ball on the rebound, and sent it to Ronan. Adam didn’t even see what he did with it, because he was looking at Blue. She had been checked to the ground again, like she had been so many times during the game, except this time she didn’t get up. Adam watched her, wondering if she was injured. The striker who had knocked her over hovered beside her, slow to rise himself, and Adam wondered if he was speaking to her. He must have been, because in one swift motion, Blue punched him.

In two seconds, there was a ref on the court holding up a yellow card. The Hornets got a penalty shot. The striker lined up to take it, and when the ball just barely escaped Noah’s racquet, Adam let himself get angry.

He was pissed.

The Hornets could go around abusing his team and completely get away with it, just because they weren’t _technically_ doing anything wrong. But the second a Raven pushed back, they were carded.

Fueled by his anger at the Hornets, Adam played harder. He felt like he had been given a second wind, because the burn in his legs and arms felt more distant, pushed underneath his will to win. The third quarter was almost over, but to Adam, the game was new.

The backliners struggled to get the ball back from the Hornets’ menacing strikers, but when they did, Adam swore not to let himself get bullied into giving it up. He was chased by Prokopenko, but he refused to slow down, passing instead to Ronan. His roommate shoved Skov aside and scored. Once again, there was a showdown between the Hornets’ defense and the Ravens’ offense, weaving in and out between each other, make each other’s life difficult. Finally, Prokopenko got the ball on a rebound and sent it to Kavinsky.

_No,_ Adam thought. He looked at Noah and could see that he wouldn’t be able to handle another round.

He sprinted, knowing that he could get to Kavinsky before he had a chance to lead his strikers into a swarm. Adam could show that bastard not to mess with his team, he could show him that he couldn’t always get what he wanted. What _Adam_ wanted to do was charge at him, knock him over like his team had been doing to the Ravens. Adam could give him a taste of his own medicine, show him how it felt to be pummeled and thrown aside, how the ground tasted. He was so close, he-

Adam stopped. That wasn’t like him. That was like _Kavinsky._ That was like his _father._

A foot away from Kavinsky, Adam slowed his momentum and stopped his check. He was better than this. But Kavinsky wasn’t, and with a growl and no warning, Kavinsky barreled into him.

Adam saw white.

 

The next thing Adam felt was a dull throbbing throughout his entire body. His head hurt, his legs hurt, his foot really, _really_ hurt. He groaned and tried to open his eyes. Lying beside him, wherever he was, was his Exy helmet.

Exy. The game.

In a flash, he tried to sit up, but someone’s hand on his chest stopped him.

“If you even try to move your eyebrows, I will knock you into next week,” said Ronan, who had appeared beside him.

Adam desperately wanted to look around. “But the game.”

“The game is on time-out. Now lie the fuck down, Parrish.”

“Oh, let him sit up,” said Maura, coming up beside Ronan. “It wasn’t his head that broke his fall.”

Adam considered the pain he was feeling in his foot and sat up in a panic to look at it. Was it broken? What would he do if he had broken it? Stupid, stupid, stupid. As if reading his thoughts, Maura said, “Relax. It’s not broken.” Adam saw that there was a bandage covering it, though, and it seemed swollen. “You twisted it.”

“But the game’s not over,” he breathed. He wouldn’t be able to play.

Surprisingly, Ronan laughed. The sound of it was different from his laugh back in Cabeswater, Adam noticed, though he didn’t know why or how he could tell them apart.

“Seriously?” Ronan asked. “You’ve just found out that you’ve been _injured_ and the first thing you worry about is that you can’t play. Fucking shit, Parrish, this game really _is_ getting to you.” His expression sobered and he nodded his head towards the rest of the team. “They’ve been arguing about that, too.”

“How long was I out?” he asked as Maura began shining a light in his eyes.

“Fifty years,” Ronan said sarcastically. Maura paused her check-up to glare at him, and he rolled his eyes. “A couple minutes. The crowd’s being annoying but we can’t continue until-”

“Until you find a replacement for me.” Adam looked over at the rest of his team, crowded together and having some kind of animated argument. They probably would have been whispering had it not been for the audience, but Adam was able to tune them out and listen in on the conversation.

“.... I can go on,” Noah was saying, but it looked like that was anything but the case.

“You look like you’re going to fall over,” Henry argued. “You’ve been playing the entire time and-”

“Well, what choice do we have?” Blue growled. “Noah’s the only dealer.”

“If you put him back in, he’s going to collapse! He’s exhausted!

“If he doesn’t go on, we forfeit,” Declan said. “We still have another quarter to go. Give him a shot.”

“See!”

“Shut up, he’s about to pass out!”

“We can work around him!”

“He’s a liability like this! He’ll get hurt!”

The team was so focused in their disagreements that everyone seemed to have forgotten about Gansey. Before, he had just been sitting down, staring at them as they fought, but now he was getting up. Adam watched as he approached them, thinking that he was going to give a verdict. But no, he was… tightening the straps on his helmet. He was walking around them.

“Ronan,” Adam whispered, trying to find his breath.

Ronan was talking to Maura about his injury over of him. “Shut up, Parrish. Lie down.”

But Gansey was walking towards the door of to the court now, staring at through the plexiglass. No one noticed but Adam. Gansey couldn’t possibly be considering… he was, though. Adam couldn’t even see his face, but he knew.

“Ronan.” Adam swatted at him with his hand.

“You might not have a concussion, but I will personally give you one if you don’t get some fucking rest.”

Gansey was breathing deep now, preparing himself. “Ronan!” Adam all but shouted.

“What?!” Ronan hissed, before following the line of Adam’s pointing hand, all the way to Gansey, who had just left the benches. Ronan swore and darted towards him, trying to push through the Ravens’ huddle, but it was too late. Gansey was on the court. Quickly, the other members of the team figured out what was going on and stormed after him, leaving Adam with Maura. He desperately wanted to know what was going on, but he could only strain his eyes to see Ronan, Blue and Noah frantically speaking to their friend, before Henry and Tad shifted to block his view. The crowd was going crazy.

Adam got his answer a minute later when Noah and Tad shuffled unhappily into the benches. “Everyone tried to tell him not to,” Noah said mournfully. “He wouldn’t listen. He’s playing.”

Adam saw Gansey taking the dealer’s position on the court, waiting for Kavinsky to serve. His heart beat quickly. The problem wasn’t that he didn’t think Gansey would be able to play well - he had been taking part in every practice - it was just that Adam didn’t know if he’d be able to handle the game. If his anxiety had stopped him from playing in _any_ games, how was he on the court now, against the Hornets, the very team that had caused it all.

_Maybe that’s it,_ Adam thought. _Maybe he’s trying to prove something._

Still, Adam’s efforts to have faith in his friend were foiled by his deep-seated worry for him. The Hornets weren’t going to go easy on him. They would snatch his weakness up and use it against him.

“This is my fault,” Noah murmured. “I should have gone back on. Ronan’s been playing the whole game.”

“Ronan is _Ronan_ ,” Adam told him. “You can’t even stand right.”

Noah bit his lip. “I got whiplash in that last pounding. Everything felt like it was moving.”

“You should have Maura check you for a concussion,” Tad said, staring at the court.

“Later,” Noah said. “We have fifteen minutes left. I’m not missing this.”

Kavinsky served, and the game was thrust back into motion as if nothing had happened. Gansey got ahold of the ball, and Adam realized that this was the first time he had ever seen him _play._ Not just fire balls at a target or weave around cones or practice in a scrimmage, but actually _play._ Adam had heard that he could technically play any position on the court if he wanted to. He had gone all the way to England to learn from one of the game’s creators and had a court built at his high school just because he was so passionate, and this was the very first time Adam got to see it.

Adam didn’t really have anything to compare him to, but from what he saw now, Gansey overcame his unease within three minutes of playing and slipped back into the mechanics of his position. He passed the ball to Declan, and didn’t freak out when his teammate was checked. He just kept playing.

Kavinsky scored a goal quickly, and Adam bit his lip. The score was tied at nine points all.

Blue got the ball back and passed it to Gansey, who immediately moved down-court to send it to their strikers. Adam sucked in a breath of fear, however, when he saw what Gansey couldn’t; Kavinsky coming up behind him, intent on checking. Adam watched in anticipation as Ronan abandoned his position and sprinted, knocking Kavinsky aside moments before he could touch him.

The two players went down, but Ronan came up first, and in one fluid motion, took the ball for himself and fired it with perfect accuracy at the goal. It went in, and Adam’s jaw dropped in awe. This was one of the first times he’d been capable of watching the game, not as a player, but a spectator, and he was soaking in the view. The moment replayed in his head in slow motion; Ronan flinging himself at Kavinsky to save Gansey, the way he got up so quickly after going down, his body obeying his every command like a machine. It was breath-taking.

_Little Prince,_ his father used to call Ronan Lynch. Adam added that to the list of things his father was wrong about. Ronan wasn’t a prince of Exy.

He was a god.

Adam checked the clock and saw that there was only eight minutes left. Eight minutes for the Ravens to hold that advantage that Ronan had just given them. Or eight minutes to lose it. Adam figured that they could pull ahead in a shootout, but the last thing that any of the Ravens wanted was overtime.

The players on the court realized that too, and they were playing fiercely. Adam’s team knew that the last thing they wanted was to let the Hornet offense get the ball, but the opposing backliners had seemed to have found a way to make the Lynches struggle: getting in their way. Ronan and Declan were trained in out-maneuvering backliners with finesse, and the Hornets defense didn’t have the skill to counter their plays, so they just made sure that they weren’t able to make them. If Ronan got pissed off when Adam didn’t pivot properly, he didn’t even want to know what was going through his head now that these backliners were acting like buffoons on purpose.

Eventually his efforts weren’t enough, and the Hornets got the ball. They fired it at Matthew so hard that he lost his balance. He tried to get it back across the court, but couldn’t, and wasn’t in the position to receive the next bout. He dove for the ball, but missed by a millimeter, and then the score was once again tied.

Adam clenched his hands into fists.

The ball made its way back to Ronan and Declan, and with so few minutes left in the game, they struggled to get the next point. Adam was at the edge of his seat now, his pain completely forgotten in lieu of hanging on to every movement on the court. Another fruitless minute passed where Ronan and Declan tried to find a proper position to score. The backliners’ tactic was faulty and it was obvious that the Lynch brothers would overcome them with time, but it was time that they didn’t have.

Adam bit his lip. There was less than two minutes on the clock. With every second that the tie wasn’t broken, he felt his heart beat faster.

Ronan got around a backliner long enough to make a desperate shot. It wasn’t enough.  The Hornets’ goalie caught it. He sent it down to Kavinsky, and Adam bowed his head. If the offense got it, they were done for. And then the crowd started cheering, and he looked up.

There was less than a minute, and there was Gansey, sprinting towards Kavinsky the way Ronan had earlier. To everyone’s surprise, he didn’t stop. Adam couldn’t help but gasp when he saw Gansey’s body hit the other dealer’s. It wasn’t that hard of a check, but knowing his teammate, it was _massive._ Gansey took the ball, and as the seconds counted down, he fired at the goal. Adam watched as it sailed through the air… flying straight in its path… and went in. From across the court, Gansey had scored.

The final buzzer sounded and a grin appeared on Adam’s face.

They won!

Tad picked Adam up in an impromptu piggyback and carried him over to the court, where the Ravens were shouting in celebration. Adam whooped too, letting his team’s hands clap him on the back happily. Declan and Matthew were hugging, Ronan picked Blue up onto his shoulders, both cheering. Gansey was standing in the middle of it all, gaping. He turned to Adam and he saw just how emotional his expression was.

“We won,” he said in a small voice. “We won.”

Adam Parrish won against the Hornets.

Adam Parrish was giving Exy his all.

Adam Parrish _wasn’t_ stopping now.


	7. Chapter Six

Winning against the Hornets was great, but once the initial victory wore off, Adam realized that he was left with two conflicting spoils: satisfaction and a giant pain in the ass. They had left Blackwell and had their celebrations, and unfortunately, Adam’s ankle was still twisted. They didn’t have another game for two weeks, and Maura said it would be healed by then, but Adam still had to deal with the repercussions of his actions. 

Meaning, he had to use crutches.

And said crutches were a pain in the ass.

Currently, they were sitting up against his desk in his English lecture, blocking the too tiny space and making the short girl behind him have to crane her neck. Adam glared at them with hatred. 

“Careful, or they’ll spontaneously combust,” said a familiar voice from beside him. Adam whirled in surprise at hearing it in this setting. 

Ronan was standing up in the row beside him, leaning against the chair in front of him, and staring at Adam’s crutches disdainfully, as if he was trying to shame them into getting out of his way. Ronan… was in  _ class? _ Adam didn’t bother pretending that he wasn’t gawking at him. 

Eventually, Ronan gave up on his staring tactic and moved the crutches out of his way so that he could sit down. He pulled his chair up beside Adam’s and peered down at his notes. Adam was surprised that he was paying any attention to them at all. “What did I miss?” he said.

Adam looked at him. “You’re half an hour late.”

Ronan didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah. What did I miss?”

Adam blinked. He came to the conclusion that Ronan was serious and showed him his notes. Ronan’s eyes swept over them carefully, and though he never looked up, Adam got the very distinct feeling that Ronan knew that he was watching him and that he was amused by it. He would be even more amused, too, if he knew just how much of an effect he had on Adam. Because as much as Adam hated to admit it to himself, and though he would never admit it to someone else… Ronan confused him. 

Adam didn’t like being confused. He preferred knowing what was happening, and what he should and shouldn’t do, and what people wanted from him. He couldn’t do that with Ronan.

He  _ had  _ been able to do it before the game. He had been perfectly happy to categorize Ronan’s moods into four separate entities: the brother, the friend, the Exy player, and the asshole. But then the game had happened and Ronan had checked someone for Adam and made sure he was okay after he was hit. In those moments, the asshole hadn’t quite disappeared, but Adam had seen both the friend and the Exy player at the same time and he hadn’t known where one ended and the other began and he had been confused ever since.

And now Ronan Lynch was in class willingly, looking at Adam’s notes.

Adam forced himself to focus on the steady drone of his English professor’s voice as he explained the importance of MLA. He took notes dutifully for about twenty minutes before Ronan distracted him again by fiddling with a pen. Adam tried to make himself concentrate, but the only thing he could hear was the faint clicking noise Ronan was making. He clenched his teeth and wrote harder, but his grip on the pencil was too tight and the tip snapped off.

He cursed. That was the only pencil he had brought with him and he couldn’t sharpen it.

Before Adam could resign to having to borrow someone else’s notes, Ronan leaned over and silently handed him a pen.

Adam looked at him. A part of him wanted to refuse it and solve the problem some other way, without Ronan’s help, but he quickly realized that was stupid. He took the pen. “Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t mention it,” Ronan said, not looking at him.

“I bet these notes are going to be on the test, so-”

Ronan ran a hand over his buzzed scalp before holding it up to silence him. “Nope,” he said. “Seriously. Don’t mention it. Ever. At all.”

Adam stared at him, trying to figure out what was making him act so weird. This was  _ nice, _ and Ronan wasn’t  _ nice.  _ It just wasn’t something that fit with Adam’s understanding of him and it only added to his confusion. ‘ _ I’m not something you can figure out,’ _ Ronan had once said.

Adam shook his head and paid attention to the lesson. He almost got to the end of it before Ronan spoke again. He leaned in and mused, “When  _ is _ the test, anyway?” 

The two boys stared at each other and Adam realized with a start that this was the first time he and Ronan had made eye contact all day. His roommate’s eyes were locked on his and he was sitting very close to hear him better and Adam actually forgot for a moment what he had asked. On this rare occasion, Ronan wasn’t frowning at him or covered in gear, and it occurred to Adam that he was actually quite attractive. 

Adam mentally slapped some sense into himself, because the entire  _ team _ was attractive if you paid attention, and it didn’t matter.

“Next Tuesday,” he said, and it came out more breathlessly than he had wanted.

Ronan groaned, and Adam remembered his point. “Why does it even matter?” he asked. “You don’t take notes, you don’t do homework, I have  _ never  _ seen your textbook in our room. Why do you care about the test?”

Ronan pulled a napkin out of his pocket and started doodling on it. “I don’t give a shit about the classwork. But I need to do well on tests to keep my marks up, because if I don’t, Gray gets on my case about being ‘forced’ to suspend me, and it’s  _ so _ fucking annoying.”

Adam wanted to laugh at his petulance. He himself had to keep his grades up for fear of losing his spot on the team, not graduating college, and being stuck in Henrietta forever. And then here was Ronan… “You do well on the tests just so that Gray won’t  _ nag you?” _

“And Declan. Gansey, too.”

Adam  _ did  _ laugh at that. Weren’t they just Ronan’s personal team of motivators? He began to reply, but the short girl behind him shushed him. “Sorry, Catherine,” he muttered. 

“I thought you said that there was no way Gray could kick you off the team.”

“Doesn’t mean he can’t hound me about it all the fucking time.” Ronan leaned in conspiratorially. “And I actually picked classes that I don’t hate, for the record. I don’t mind listening to the lessons, but there’s no way in hell that I’m gonna do the homework.”

Adam smiled. There was something almost admirable in the way that Ronan was so determined to do the very least in his classes and get the best results. In some backwards, ironic way, he put a surprising amount of work into his slacking off. 

“I’ll help you study,” he found himself saying. “Since I’m half convinced you’ve lost your textbook anyway.”

Ronan stared at him, brows furrowed. “You’d do that?”

Adam shrugged. “I mean… you help me. It’s only fair. And it’s not like I’m gonna be helping you with  _ all  _ your classes.” He pointed at his notes. “Just English.”

Ronan nodded and fidgeted with his pen. Adam was struck by an image of Ronan and him lying on the floor in their room with books and papers spread out all around them, the light dim, Ronan chewing on his pen as he studied Adam’s notes, his focused gaze on the Exy court now directed at the paper in front of him… He swallowed.

“Just English,” he repeated. Catherine shushed him again, but this time, Adam watched as Ronan turned to glare at her. He was thankful for the excuse to avoid eye contact with him. 

Catherine’s attitude was irrelevant, because the lesson was over anyway. She stood up with a huff and left her row dramatically - something that would have been more impressive if Adam hadn’t seen Blue execute it better on multiple occasions. Ronan left their row, too, and leaned against the desk as Adam tried to get all of his things back into his bag and navigate the narrow space with his crutches. He glared at them again. Maura said they were only necessary for a week, so that there would be no pressure on his foot to slow the healing, but Adam was done with it. He felt clumsy and awkward whenever he used them, even after he had gotten the hang of it.

He managed to get out of the row without the crutches. He paused for a moment. Adam carried his crutches and limped forward, determined to walk without them. He made it through the painful journey up the stairs, but once he was outside, he tripped on the grass and fell forward. He was sure that he would have rolled his ankle again if Ronan hadn’t caught him in his arms.

He looked up at his roommate from the new angle and saw that he was raising a judgemental eyebrow. Adam smiled awkwardly, before realizing that he was still being held in a dip. He picked his crutches up and supported himself on those instead.

“I guess I still need these,” he coughed. He could smell Ronan’s deodorant.

“No fucking shit, Parrish,” Ronan said, crossing his arms over his solid chest. Adam noticed the way his biceps fought against the restraints of his sleeves. “Maura  _ said _ a week. Do you  _ want _ to get yourself hurt again?”

“No!” he argued. “Of course not! I wouldn’t be able to play.”

“So use your fucking crutches and stop trying to go without them. It’s just going to take longer  to heal and you’ll keep being in pain.” 

Adam stared at him. He processed his roommate’s words. “Are you… are you worried about me?”

Ronan huffed and began to walk, forcing Adam to follow him. “You said it yourself. You won’t be able to play if you don’t heal.”

Adam nodded, slightly disappointed. It would make sense for Ronan to be worried about that. He was his teammate. And he was also friends with Gansey, who would be forced to play for an even longer portion of a game if Adam couldn’t go on. “Yeah,” he muttered, “yeah, that makes sense.

Ronan placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. “Hey, don’t be an idiot. You’re my friend. I don’t want you tripping over every fucking rock that you come across and fuck up your ankle each time.” He started walking again, and Adam was glad, because it allowed him to hide his grin. Ronan had just, in his own way, told him that he cared about him. That was probably the closest Adam was ever going to get to a heartfelt confession outside of Cabeswater, and the notion of it made him feel surprisingly warm inside.

Of all his friends, Ronan was the least upfront about his affection, and somehow that made the knowledge that he cared about Adam so much better.

Adam was starting to realize that he had been looking in the wrong places for Ronan’s feelings. They didn’t just show up at midnight in a empty arena, far away from the world. They appeared in the little things. Ronan’s affection was taking a check for an unsure player, it was handing someone a pen and making sure they got bad news from the right person. For all his brutally honest comments, Ronan was far more honest with his actions.

Adam smirked. He wondered how much of it Ronan was convinced he hid. He wondered how much of it he  _ did  _ hide.

“Ronan?” he said.

“Yeah?”

Adam took a deep breath and told him what he had wanted to say since the game. “The next time we’re out there… I’m not going to shy away from checking.”

Ronan looked him over, evaluating him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They walked the rest of the way to the dorms in silence, and Adam felt three pounds lighter.

***

It was after dinner and Noah was holding an intervention in the lounge. 

“All I’m saying is that we have got to get our shit together, guys. We have got to get our  _ shit together.” _

His words would have been a lot more convincing if he wasn’t holding a wine cooler in his hand, visibly tipsy. Adam sat down on the couch and Blue leaned in to whisper, “Drunk Noah likes to give motivational speeches.” Adam nodded slowly. He knew that Noah had somehow convinced Henry to play a drinking game, but he didn’t understand why that meant that he had to listen to his friend babble. He felt like he was at some kind of AA meeting. 

Noah pointed to Blue. “You. Blue. We all love you, but you have got to cut down on the yoghurt consumption.”

Cheng nodded from his spot on the ottoman. “There’s bacteria in that, Sargent.”

Blue crossed her arms. “Healthy bacteria.”

Noah swatted his hand noncommittally. “Whatever.” He looked to Gansey. “I would just like to point out that we still haven’t found your scrapbook and it is getting ridiculous. Where did you put it? Why are you so good at this?”

Gansey shrugged. Ronan smirked. “Maybe you’re just incompetent.”

Noah’s jaw dropped in fake betrayal. “I am not! And don’t tell me you’re not looking for it.”

“I’m not. Because I’m not a fucking loser.”

Noah pouted. “That reminds me!” he exclaimed. “Cheng. Never have I ever looked for the scrapbook.”

Everyone watched expectantly as Henry’s mouth twisted before he gave up and grabbed a shot from the table. As he tipped it into his mouth, Blue laughed. He set the shot glass down with a sheepish expression. “You all talk about it… I was curious.”

“You’re all crazy,” Blue smiled, leaning back against Gansey’s arm.

“You can still get in on the game if you want, Blue. You all can.”

Adam held his breath when Blue grabbed a shot glass, but let it out when she told Gansey to stay sober so that she didn’t do anything stupid. Adam politely refused to join in, and was relieved when no one commented on it. He  _ was  _ surprised when Ronan opted out of drinking, and no one let that slide.

“Your alcohol choice is awful,” was all he said in response. “What is that? Schnapps?”

Noah looked offended on behalf of his schnapps. “Booze is booze, man.”

“Your booze is gross.”

“You’re gross.”

Ronan stuck up his middle finger.

Noah let the conversation drop and returned to his intervention/drinking game mess of a gathering. He looked around the group of people, deciding who to select for his public scolding. His eyes reached everyone once, like a game of eeny meeny miny mo, before settling on Adam.

“Adam!” he shouted and pointed, looking an awful lot like a buzzed game show host. “You’ve got to stop being so pretty. It’s fucking unbelievable. Seriously, you’re attractive, you get good grades, you’re athletic. There has  _ got  _ to be something wrong with you.”

Adam blushed. He was sure that he could name  _ multiple  _ things that were wrong with him - or at least wrong with his life - but each and every one of them linked to an even deeper flaw, and to mention even one of them would put a damper on the party. And it would bring up the side of him that he had managed to keep from his friends so far. He liked it better that way. He was going to keep it that way. 

He gestured down at his foot. “I’m crippled.”

Noah laughed. “That’s good enough for me. Never have I ever checked Adam Parrish out.” Everyone who was part of the game took a drink, and Adam blushed again.

Noah turned to Ronan. He gave him a quick once over before shaking his head. “Yeah, there’s no point calling you out on anything. You’re still an asshole.”

The game continued, with Noah’s filter getting more and more flimsy and his words getting more and more slurred. Adam watched with amused sobriety as Henry started drunkenly ranting about feminism while Blue yelled her own opinion. It was the weirdest thing; if anyone saw their expressions and body language, they would have thought that they were in the middle of a heated argument, but in reality they were just aggressively  _ agreeing  _ with each other. Noah kept commenting on anything and everything that came to mind and cuddling anyone near him. Drunk Noah was very affectionate. And very brave, if the way he came to sit on Ronan’s lap was any indicator.

Overall, Adam felt like he learned a lot about his teammates as they kept answering increasingly bizarre questions. He didn’t think he  _ needed  _ to know that Noah had walked in on his parents having sex or that Henry would sleep with anyone in the room if he was drunk enough. The knowledge that Blue thought Ronan was hot (“Even if his personality is a turnoff from a mile away. Full offense, Goliath,”) didn’t really sit well with him either.

By the time Noah had given his speech about how asexuality didn’t hinder his love for body shots, Adam was ready to leave.

When Noah invited Blue and Henry to table dance with him, Adam was done.

Gansey gave him a pleading ‘don’t leave me here alone’ look, but Adam smiled apologetically. There was only so much secondhand embarrassment he could put himself through, and when Cheng started singing Madonna, he knew that his quota was up.

“See ya, guys!” he said as he left.

He was almost to the door of his room before Ronan caught up to him. 

“You’re done too?” he asked. He checked his watch; it was only midnight. He knew for a fact that Ronan could and would stay up later. “First no drinking and now this?”

Ronan shrugged past him to get to the door. “I meant what I said about Noah’s schnapps. It’s shit.”

“I honestly doubt you’re that much of a liquor snob.”

Ronan squinted at him. “Maybe. But I don’t drink for fun. I drink to get drunk.”

Adam was surprised that he understood Ronan’s sentiment. He himself could never get drunk, not after witnessing so many of his father’s rampages and tiptoeing around him when he was hungover. But he supposed he could see the other end of the scale. Adam wasn’t going to pretend he knew much of Ronan’s life besides what he had been told, but from what he saw, Adam would want to escape too. Ronan’s options were far more limited than the average person’s - running away was out of the question, he would never be able to disappear from the public eye, and he doubted he would be able to leave his brothers either. In fact, Adam was surprised that he limited himself to alcohol. No wonder Declan and Gansey were constantly on his case about drugs.

In another world, Adam might’ve made the same choices. He might have started drinking to escape, instead of getting up and leaving everything behind. Adam supposed that he didn’t drink for the same reasons Ronan did - to avoid what he was running from.

Adam realized that he was staring and looked away. “You going to sleep?” he asked his roommate.

“I’m going to bed.”

Adam took that as a good enough  _ no  _ and prepared for bed himself. He changed into his pajama pants, and when he came back from brushing his teeth, Ronan was already under his covers, facing away. Adam’s eyes lingered on his form for a moment, as if he could sort out his confusion for him simply by staring at him long enough. It didn’t seem to work, and it just made the niggling feeling in Adam’s stomach grow, so he climbed into his own bed and turned out the lights. He didn’t say goodnight.

Usually, Adam was tired enough to fall asleep immediately, but tonight he lay awake. He would have chalked it up to the fact that he had an easy day, without practice or work or a difficult class, but it was still late. He didn’t feel restless the way he did when he was waiting for Ronan to go to practice. He just couldn’t get his brain to turn off.

He thought about the fact that he had practice tomorrow, but he wondered if he could skip it, since he couldn’t play anyway. Maybe he could pick up another shift at work and find an immobile task. But then he thought about Gansey and how he wanted to see if there would be a visible difference in the way he played after participating in a game. And then he thought about how Declan would be annoyed that he didn’t show up, even if he couldn’t play. And then he wondered if Ronan would have the same opinion or if he wouldn’t care at all.

Everything seemed to come back to Ronan.

Whenever Adam closed his eyes, he saw Ronan checking Kavinsky for him. He tried to convince himself that it was purely strategic - a stronger player protecting a weaker player - but he couldn’t quite do it. Ronan had protected  _ Gansey _ and Adam was sure that went beyond strategy. He would have done it even if he hadn’t made a promise to Blue. He would have done it simply because he cared.

And Ronan  _ had  _ said that he cared about Adam, even if it wasn’t explicitly stated. If Ronan wanted to be  _ strategic _ , he would have let Adam get checked as a lesson to stop him from avoiding contact. Adam rolled over and looked at his teammate. His athletic form was accentuated by the sliver of moonlight shining in through their window. Adam watched him breathe and remembered the way he had felt earlier that day when he’d caught Adam in his arms. He remembered the majestic way he had looked on the court when he checked Kavinsky, the godly way he always looked when he played. Adam mentally compared it to the way he curled in on himself in Cabeswater when he spoke about his family.

It awed Adam, the way someone as all or nothing as Ronan could possibly exist, that such polar opposites resided in the same person.

He turned the other way let himself chase sleep.

Adam didn’t know when or if he’d actually fallen asleep, but he was woken up by the familiar sound of Ronan getting up and leaving the room. Adam knew that he came and went often, but he couldn’t come up with a reason for why he was leaving  _ now. _ It was a Tuesday - not one of the days he usually left in the night. 

Adam wondered if he was meeting someone. Then he chided himself. Ronan could have just been getting up to use the bathroom.

Still, he was curious. So he ignored the logical voices in his head telling him to go back to sleep and grabbed his crutches. First, he passed by the bathrooms and the lounge, just to make sure that he  _ wasn’t  _ completely overthinking things. But Ronan wasn’t there, so he silently entered the stairway. He heard a sound coming from below and quietly descended after it. Finally, once he was out of the dorm building, he saw the faint trace of Ronan’s body against the darkness. Adam followed it.

He felt like he had been walking forever, staying a safe distance away from his roommate and repeating his turns, before they stopped. 

The sign in front of the building was barely legible from this distance, but it only took a glance at the cross above the door for Adam to realize that he was in front of a church. Had Ronan come here to pray? Adam shouldn’t have been there, he shouldn’t have given in to his curiosity. He turned around to leave, but when he glanced back he saw that Ronan was carrying something. Adam hesitated, but he gave in to his curiosity again and was in pursuit.

He moved silently, making sure he had somewhere to hide in case Ronan turned around. He watched as Ronan slipped around the side of the building, and waited for him to come back out before going the way he had come. Adam saw that on the side of the church there was a door open. He peeked around to make sure no one was watching before he entered. When he got inside, he saw that there was a box in the hallway, the sign above it reading “Cardboard Drive: help the church make sleeping mats for the homeless. Donate used cardboard here!” Adam took a look inside the box, and sure enough, a good half of it was recognizable: the box from the new workout bands, a month’s worth of cereal boxes, the box from the whiteboard Ronan had installed in their room.

So this was what Ronan did at night. He snuck out at ungodly hours to walk across town and participate in  _ charity? _

It struck Adam at once. All the tiniest things that Ronan covered up with menace rearranged themselves in Adam’s head and he snorted. Underneath his mean exterior… Ronan Lynch was a  _ softie. _ The notion was hilarious.

Adam grinned and walked out of the church, smiling to himself. Ronan was without a doubt the weirdest person he had ever met. Only a few days ago Adam had seen him and Noah in the parking lot, creating their own fire pit and jumping over it with skateboards. And now he snuck out like a damn  _ vampire  _ at two in the morning just so that he could donate his collection of cardboard boxes to the homeless. Adam wondered if the odd timing was to hide his kindness in order to preserve his rep, or if Ronan just couldn’t see anything wrong with wandering about in the middle of the night. Either way, the thought made him want to laugh.

He was smiling right up until he turned the corner and was greeted by Ronan leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Adam faltered.

“Did you fucking follow me?” Ronan demanded.

“Uh…” Adam struggled for words.

“I’ll take that as a yes. And what exactly were you hoping to  _ achieve _ ?”

Adam made a face. “I was wondering what you were up to.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I wanted to find out.” After a pause, he continued, “Meeting up with someone, getting drunk, burning things in a parking lot… I wasn’t expecting a church.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and started walking back to the campus. Adam went after him. “You’d think that by now, you’d stop being so interested in me. Most people stop caring once they actually meet me.”

Adam smirked. “You’re no prince charming.” Ronan scoffed. “But I did find out about your big secret.” 

Ronan paused mid-step, but caught himself quickly and kept walking. Adam supposed he didn’t want to let him know that he was curious about what he thought. “And what is that?” he asked coolly. 

“That you’re a softie.”

This time Ronan  _ did _ turn around to gawk at Adam. Amused, Adam continued. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a hoard of fluffy forest animals that you feed daily. Maybe you sing songs to them. I heard you can sing. Can you sing?”

Ronan blinked at him. Adam doubted that anyone had ever had this kind of conversation with him. After a few moments of gaping, Ronan sighed and turned back around. “Have I ever told you that you’re a pain in my ass?” he said.

“Pretty much daily,” Adam smiled.

“You think you’d get the hint.”

“Well, mister no-one-understands-me, maybe you’ve finally met someone as stubborn as you.”

Ronan looked at him. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Maybe I have.”

When they got back to the dorm room, it was after three am, and Adam was suddenly glad that he was able to get out of tomorrow’s practice. He didn’t know what Ronan was going to do about his late night, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t show his fatigue. He could imagine Ronan showing up on court with the same bored look that didn’t manage to cover up his intense gaze. 

For the first night since his arrival at Monmouth, Adam felt self conscious about changing in front of him. He was still in his pajama pants, but as he discarded his shirt, he was too aware of Ronan’s proximity. Adam faced the other way, but when Ronan himself began to change out of his clothes, Adam was too aware of  _ that  _ as well. He caught himself staring a few times. He’d known that Ronan was attractive since the moment he met him, but there had always been something… sharp about it, making Adam shy away. He’d thought that the only people who would get close enough to Ronan to make a move were idiots. Ronan Lynch was sharp enough to cut you with is words and vicious enough to do it without a second thought. Adam had steered clear, but now he realized that he’d started pushing.

Adam had tried to get under his skin and now that he was there… he wanted to go further.

A part of him told him to stay back and avoid the mess that was Ronan Lynch at all costs. Another part of him, though, was too curious for his own good. Adam used to praise himself on being different from most of Henrietta’s nosy inhabitants; he’d stay out of people’s business and make sure that they stayed out of his. But now… Now he couldn’t help but be interested.

It didn’t help that Ronan was unfairly attractive either. The last thing Adam needed was a crush on his roommate, but now that he had  _ noticed,  _ he couldn’t  _ stop noticing. _

He climbed into bed and tried to will the urge to stare at Ronan away. He tried to make himself not care. It didn’t work.

“Have you ever been to Ireland?” Ronan’s voice rang out in the silence. Adam looked over in the dim light to see his roommate lying on his back, one arm up over his head.

“No,” he admitted. “Before this year, I’d never even left Henrietta.”

Ronan turned his head toward him. “Never?”

“Never,” Adam repeated. “I didn’t think… Well, I never even thought I’d make it this far. I thought I’d be stuck there forever.”

“Why?"

Adam hesitated. He knew he shouldn’t tell Ronan about his father. It wasn’t something he’d told anyone about. He wasn’t proud of his family, and he’d managed to keep the truth of their situation under wraps. Blue only knew the barest details about the poverty and  _ no one  _ would ever know about the abuse if he could help it. But after Ronan had told him the truth about his life, Adam wanted to return the favour. Only a little bit.

“I was offered a job before I left,” he said. “That’s what mattered to my dad, getting a job. He thinks school is pointless. He thinks Exy’s stupid. I guess I always figured he wouldn’t let me leave.”

Ronan said nothing.

Adam kept talking, even though his brain yelled at him to shut up. “I think a part of me didn’t believe I would be able to manage being on my own, even if he let me go.”

“We’ve all got something,” Ronan stated.

His brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

Ronan turned over on his side to face him. “Every sports star has their thing - their dirty little secret. Drugs, hospitalization, court orders… daddy issues.”

Adam wanted to scoff.  _ Daddy issues  _ seemed like a feeble, generic description for what his problems at home were.

“What’s yours?” he found himself asking. It was only fair. Ronan had given him his label. He wanted to know Ronan’s.

The other side of the room was silent for a moment. “I’ll tell you when I figure it out,” Ronan said quietly.

It was a while before either one of them spoke again.

“Ronan?” Adam asked.

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you mention Ireland?”

“I just… thought you’d fit in there.” He heard Ronan turn over. “Night, Parrish.”

“Night, Lynch.”

Adam turned over as well and let sleep finally claim him. As he closed his eyes, Adam decided that he was done being confused. He was done separating Ronan into different parts and wondering what filled the in-betweens. He wanted to get past the rough exterior and know every corner of what was underneath, because from what he’d seen in the middle of the night when it was just the two of them… Adam liked what he saw. 

Adam Parrish was making a new start for himself.

Adam Parrish was going to learn how to check.

Adam Parrish  _ wasn’t  _ afraid of monsters, and he definitely wasn’t afraid of Ronan Lynch.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooo sorry for the wait you guys! I hope you like the chapter!

If Adam didn’t depend on it for most of his energy, he would have hated coffee by now. With so much stress on his shoulders, the last thing he needed was to have to listen to vapid twenty-somethings take ten minutes to order their frankenstein of a drink. If he had a dollar for every time someone had gotten to the counter only to say “ _Just give me a minute_ ” before staring at the the menu board for an hour, he would have enough money to not even _need_ to work at the coffee shop anymore. So far that day, he had dealt with twenty word orders, a girl who thought he was her therapist, an angry man stuck waiting in line, and a group of women who kept on asking him about the calories in their snacks. As if he _knew._

And all this so that his father wouldn’t demand that he leave school. Adam didn’t know what he would do if he was told to do that. Would he agree? Adam was an adult now, one who didn’t live at home; he could technically do whatever he wanted. But was he brave enough?

One of the perks that used to come with the job was that he’d get at least five people’s numbers every week. Monmouth students of any gender seemed to be attracted to him, and though he’d never call back, it was at least nice to know that he had options _._ But now, none of those options appealed to him. In fact, the only person who _did_ currently appeal to him was _not_ an option, and now the numbers written down on napkins and given to him only reminded him of this.

Adam tapped his fingers on the counter as the boy in front of him studied the treats in their glass case. His shift was over in a few minutes. This Thursday he would get his paycheck from the cafe. On Friday, he would get his paycheck from his co-op. On Saturday, he would send the majority of his cafe money to his parents and put the rest in his savings account. That was what mattered.

He sighed in relief when Dustin from the next shift came to relieve him. As he took off his name tag and passed his apron off to his coworker, he was surprised to see his friends tapping on the glass of the cafe, waving.

Gansey and Noah looked excited, but Ronan just looked impatient. Adam grinned and ran out to them.

“It’s boys day,” Noah announced.

“Boys day?” Adam asked. “What’s that?”

“A stupid idea,” Ronan grumbled. Adam felt his chest expand at the sight of his petulant expression.

Gansey gave him a stern look. “Well, Blue is out on a day trip with her family, so it’s just us guys. So -”

“ - we’re having a boys day!” Noah smiled.

“And what do we do on a boys day?” Adam asked.

He was curious to know the answer to that question, but he was even more curious to know how much money it would take for him to participate _._ It was better to know now and excuse himself than to wind up pulling out his wallet only to find that he didn’t have enough.

“Bowling,” Ronan told him. “Of all the _possible_ things these twatfucks could come up with, it’s fucking _bowling.”_

Noah punched him in the arm. “It’s neon bowling! The place was designed by Gansey’s sister, so we’re getting in for free. It’s closed to the public tonight, but we can stay all day if we want. How totally cool is that?”

“The coolest!” Ronan squealed, mockingly. “ _Not.”_

“So, we don’t have to pay for tickets?” Adam asked. Just to be sure.

Gansey and Noah nodded and began to lead the way. Like most places they hung out, the bowling alley was almost right beside campus, underneath a store in the gelato plaza. As they walked, Adam felt Ronan’s eyes on him. Any other day, that would have filled him up with warmth, but right now he was feeling judged. No, not judged, _studied._ Adam kept his face neutral, but his mind raced to the first conclusion it could think of. Ronan had caught on.

It was almost a stupid thing to think of - Ronan had enough information about Adam to understand why he would dislike spending money; Adam said he was from Henrietta and _not_ from Aglionby, which was the same as saying he wasn’t rich - in fact, it was basically saying that he was from a bad economic area, so not close to rich at all - and he had told Ronan that his dad only cared about him getting a job. He ran through the options of where Ronan’s train of thought could end up, and in the end he decided he was probably okay. Needing a job and being on scholarship wasn’t the exact same as _coming from a family of abusive nobodies who live in a trailer in the worst part of Henrietta, where if you don’t have a job you don’t survive._ God, Adam was a mess.

He realized that he had zoned out when they arrived at the bowling alley. Adam pulled on the door, but it was locked. Ronan turned to Gansey to glare at him, but Adam could tell that he was secretly pleased - if they couldn’t get in, then they would just go _._

But then Gansey pulled a key out of his pocket and grinned at them before slipping it into the lock.

They walked in slowly, and though Adam knew that Gansey had been given the key as permission to enter, it still felt like they were somehow breaking and entering. They reached the main room, which was filled with rows of pins outlined by neon decorations. Everything was neon: the pins, the wall designs, the bowling balls. And with Adam’s luck, he was wearing a white shirt that was now glowing under the lights.

Gansey went straight to the main counter and found that the owner was still there. When he came back a few minutes later with multiple pairs of shoes, he told his friends that the owner was going to be there, but he would be staying in the back to do paperwork. They wouldn’t even see him.

“Oh shit,” Ronan deadpanned. “There goes our plans to torch the place.”

He and Adam made eye contact, which Adam let linger for a few seconds before he grabbed one of the pairs of shoes and walked off. Once he was out of Ronan’s sight, he smiled.

Adam had never actually been bowling in his entire life - a fact he hoped wouldn’t make him look like a complete idiot in front of his friends. He pulled on the bowling shoes, and thought idly that if you ignored the smaller size and the number printed on the toes, they kind of looked like clown shoes. How fitting.

Ronan came up and plopped down beside him. “I hate these things,” he grumbled.

“You hate a lot of things.”

Ronan very eloquently stuck his tongue out.

“They look like clown shoes,” Adam repeated out loud.

“If you feel like a clown now then it sucks for you that Cheng isn’t here. Gansey brought him once. Just once.”

Adam winced at Ronan’s tone. “That bad?” he asked.

“Let’s just say you’d look like some kind of fucking champ next to him. I think I still have the bruise from where he _threw the fucking ball backwards.”_

Adam laughed, pulling his laces tight. “Knowing you, I’m expecting to get owned either way.”

Ronan glowered, but it didn’t manage to look quite as frightening as usual. “I don’t know what kind of ‘to be good at one sport you must play them all’ philosophy you think my dad had, but I don’t go bowling. And I don’t need to to play Exy. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

Adam smirked and got up to join Gansey. As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, “I still think you’re holding out on me with your secret ballerina skills.”

“Fuck you, man,” Ronan called back. “Ballet’s not a sport! And neither is bowling!” It sounded like he was laughing. Adam’s chest thumped.

When Gansey saw him, he grinned and pointed up at the screen above their heads. “We’re all set up.”

It took another ten minutes for them to actually play _._ Part of it was spent trying to get Ronan to join them - an act that involved complaining, threatening, whining and attempts to physically drag him _._ After that, they had to wait for Noah to select his ball. Ronan, Gansey and Adam had just selected ones that looked good and weighed a comfortable amount, but Noah… he walked along the row of neon balls and picked each one up, weighing it, testing the size of the holes. At one point he seemed like he was _listening_ to it.

Ronan rolled his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Noah ignored his tone. “I’m trying to find one with a good vibe,” he said casually.

“A good _vibe?!_ What the-” Ronan threw his hands up in the air. “I’m out,” he said and began to  walk away. He got about three steps before Gansey grabbed ahold of his shirt.

Finally, Noah selected a bright pink ball from the row and brought it over, kissing it gently. “Her name’s Grace.”

“Of fucking course it is,” Ronan grumbled beside Adam. Adam snorted.

The game began. Like Adam had predicted, Gansey was good. He walked away from the aisle with with a spare. Then Ronan went up and got a strike. Adam sucked in a breath and marched up to take Ronan’s place at the aisle. _Aim_ , he told himself. He swung his arm back and released the ball. It dropped from his hand and rolled… and hit two pins before sliding into the gutter. He winced.

 _It’s your first time,_ he reminded himself.

But it didn’t help that Noah went up after him and got a strike.

Actually, it didn’t help that they all consistently got strikes. Ronan and Gansey alternated between getting better scores while Noah just… well, it turns out his ball _did_ have a vibe. In the last five turns, he had closed his eyes, taken a running start, shot between his legs while _facing the other way_ , and every single time he had knocked all the pins out in one go.

In Adam’s last five tries, he _had_ improved, but not enough for his liking. He had finally stopped hitting the two farthest pins on the left side… and started hitting the two farthest pins on the _right_ side.

“Need some help?” said Ronan, coming up behind him.

“How chivalrous of you,” Adam teased.

“I’m not doing it for your sake, Parrish. You’re making my eyes bleed.” Adam groaned.“Here,” Ronan stated and positioned himself against Adam’s back. Adam bit his lip. Ronan’s hand reached down and covered Adam’s, so that their arms were adjacent. “You just swing back like this, and aim for that stripe in the middle. Got it?”

Adam was pretty sure he _did_ have it, but he wasn’t going to say that. He was a bit too preoccupied with the fact that Ronan’s chest was warm and pressed up against him. He could lean back right now, if he wanted to, and let his head fall in the crook of Ronan’s neck. If he shifted a bit over, he’d be able to press his lips against it. In fact, it would take him less than a second to forget the ball, and turn around to Ronan, wrap his arms around his neck and kiss him.

If the Adam Parrish from a month ago had caught him thinking that…

“Show it to me again,” he breathed.

This time, Ronan’s head came up right beside Adam’s so that their cheeks were nearly touching. He swung their arms back, aiming for the thin line in the middle of the aisle, and released. The ball dropped out of his hand and continued on a clear path towards the pins, knocking them all over.

He grinned. Ronan stepped backwards.

“Thanks,” Adam said.

Ronan sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, through his teeth.“You’re a quick learner.”

He was about to walk away when Gansey came up to them and put his arms around their shoulders. “Can I just say that I love how you two are finally getting along.”

“There _was_ that scrap in the laundry room last week,” Noah pointed out, referring to the time when Ronan had combined all of their clothes into the same basket. Adam still thought that he had done it for no other reason than to be a shit. It should have bothered him more.

“Well, Noah, I think that’s a small enough of an occasion to be considered invalid. They haven’t _really_ fought in weeks.”

Ronan frowned. “Is that a challenge? Because I think that Parrish’s shoes make his feet look really-”

“Ronan…” Gansey warned. “I’m only trying to appreciate the benevolence. It’s made the past week a lot easier.”

Ronan and Noah turned back to their balls, the two of them taking their next shots, but Adam studied Gansey. The comment was passing enough. He was sure that him and Ronan’s ceasefire _did_ make a lot of things less stressful, especially for Gansey, the resident peacekeeper. But Adam had a lifetime of experience when it came to paying attention to people: their expressions, their tone of voice, their body language, anything that indicated that there was something to look out for beneath it all.

Something was wrong.

“Why was it hard, Gansey?” he asked softly.

Gansey looked at him, stunned. For a moment Adam wondered if he was wrong, and the telltale signs in Henrietta didn’t cross over to kings like him. But then Gansey’s jaw went a little too slack and he knew he was right.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said us not fighting made the week easier. Why was it hard?”

Behind Gansey, Ronan and Noah were turning back to them slowly, tuning in.

“I, um, well… It has to do with Blue.”

Noah’s eyes widened. Adam himself was surprised with his answer. Gansey and Blue were a strange couple, but they had seemed to be in some kind of honeymoon phase the entire time that he’d known them. Even their arguments reeked of ‘I love you’.

“... And the kissing thing.”

Gansey took his turn at the aisle, either not noticing or ignoring Ronan and Noah’s looks.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Adam said, “what _is_ the kissing thing?”

Gansey gave him a bewildered expression. “You mean you don’t know? I would have thought that someone would have told you by now.”

Adam cast a glance Ronan’s way. “No one’s said anything. But if you’re not comfortable then-”

“No, it’s alright.” He took a breath. “You’re aware that Blue’s mother is relatively young for a woman with a child Blue’s age?” Adam nodded. “Yes, well, her father didn’t stay very long. He left almost immediately after he heard Maura was pregnant; he said something about tying up loose ends, but he never came back. Since then, her family, her very _female_ family, is a bit untrusting towards men. At some point when Blue was younger she made some kind of vow that if she found someone she was serious about, she wouldn’t kiss him until they were married. Apparently it’s to put him through enough hell that they can be sure he won’t call it quits when it gets tough.”

“It takes the wedding night a bit to the extreme,” Ronan mumbled.

Gansey nodded. “You’re telling me! I only found out about it after we had started dating. On our first date I tried to kiss her goodnight and she pushed me back so hard I fell into the tomatoes. I was hardly going to break up with her, mind you. Blue… she’s the one for me, I can feel it.”

Adam walked forward and rolled the ball down the aisle, after aiming the way Ronan told him to. “It’s got to be hard,” he said as the ball struck the middle pins. A strike.

“It is. And it’s been getting harder. I don’t mean to be melodramatic and languishing, but recently I’ve been having to deal with the urge to kiss her more than I have since the very beginning. Just yesterday we were reading together and her hair was falling in her face and I put it behind her ear and her mouth was just _there_ and I-”

“You didn’t!” Noah gasped.

“I almost did!” Gansey cried, throwing his arms in the air. “And I think she noticed! She just stared at me and then we changed the subject but I swear she knew!”

“Did you talk about it?” Ronan asked.

“No. We haven’t said anything about… this… in depth since we began dating.”

“Maybe it’s time you should,” Noah suggested.

“She’s probably feeling the same way,” Adam added. “Blue is crazy about you.”

Gansey frowned. “But what if she isn’t? What if it’s just me?”

Ronan groaned. “It’s not! Are you so oblivious that you can’t see the way she looks at you? I know that you may be having wet dreams about holding hands and touching lips but it is very obvious every single fucking time we’re hanging out that whatever’s going on in _her_ head is much more adult! I’m talking R-rated!”

“I’m not sure it’s quite R-rated!” Gansey spluttered.

“Bite me.”

“Now _that’s_ R-rated,” Adam mumbled.

With Ronan’s face a comical shade of red, Noah’s score on the board outrageously higher than the rest of theirs, and Gansey looking like he might pass out from embarrassment, Adam decided to call it a night. “Gansey, just talk to her about it. I’m sure she’ll understand. Now can we go?”

After a moment, he nodded and pulled the keys out of his pocket. “Let’s grab our stuff. I’ll lock up.” He looked up at the scoreboard and sighed. “Noah wins. As always.”

Noah put Grace down on the rack mournfully. “You served us well, old girl.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ronan told him.

Overall, boys night wasn’t quite as bad as it could have been.

***

“I don’t understand why we have to study all this crap,” Ronan complained later that night. Over the past hour, they had started off at Ronan’s desk, then moved to his bed, then gradually fallen down to the floor, where they were laying now.

“To pass,” Adam said idly.

“I don’t want to be here to _learn_ ,” Ronan said. “I came here to play.”

“I’m sure that was a great thing to put on your application,” Adam smirked.

Ronan squinted at him.

Adam just rolled his eyes and pointed at one of the terms on the paper in front of them. “Definition.” Ronan groaned, but explained the meaning of the word in a bored, monotone voice.

“You know,” Adam said. “If you channeled all the effort that you put into staying disaffected into actually studying, you would be passing your classes with flying colours.

“We’re not here to make colours fly, Parrish. Just to pass.”

“Fine,” Adam said, and pulled out a binder from beside his bed. “What else was it that you were struggling with?”

Ronan looked at him. “The literary analysis. Like, the tropes and the symbolism and shit.”

Adam nodded and grabbed the book they were reading from on top of his table. “The one we were going over was the foolishness of love in The Great Gatsby. That and the major societal separations.”

He tucked himself closer against Ronan so that they could both see the page that he flipped to. “The symbols aren’t that hard to understand. The hyped ones are the eyes of T.J. Eckleburg and the green light, but I think that anything could be a symbol if you can support it well enough.”

“So, basically you pass English by pulling shit out of your ass and following the format.”

“Essentially. You also have to be able to write.”

“I can write,” Ronan told him. He said it so casually, not even looking up from the page, his finger tracing a line across the words, but it smacked Adam in the face. He tried to reconcile the image of Ronan bodychecking a grown man into the sideboards and him sitting down, thoughtfully arranging words and putting them on a page.

Adam really wished he didn’t find that attractive.

“Then you’re good,” he breathed.

“So, anything can be a symbol then? Like… those sheets. They were always folded before you got here, but now they’re on the bed because you sleep there. So they’re like a symbol of you being at Monmouth.”

Adam was entirely too conscious of his expression. “Yes,” he said carefully. “Something like that.”

“And a theme is something you see multiple times. So, if every day, I saw your sheets it would be like…” He trailed off.

“Not quite,” Adam said. He shifted over unthinkingly, before discovering that motion had pressed him closer against Ronan. He could feel his body heat through his T-shirt, and the way his breathing moved his chest. Adam swallowed.

“A theme is more like an important idea. So, because most of the characters in The Great Gatsby have sketchy moral compasses, you could say that a theme was the corruption of morality in New York in the 1920s.”

Ronan nodded slowly.

“Why don’t you try and write a couple down?” Adam suggested, passing him a paper. For long moment, Ronan just stared at him, appraising him, and Adam thought that he was going to say no, just to be difficult. Then he took the paper.

Adam pulled his other book off of his table and placed it in front of himself. He knew that he should really get around to reading ahead, so that he wouldn’t find himself not having enough time later. It would be easier if he moved away from Ronan, who was trapping his arm between them. But Adam didn’t.

Ronan was chewing his - no, _Adam’s -_ pencil. Then he jotted a few things down in that scribbled handwriting.

Adam had to make a conscious effort not to stare. Not at the way Ronan’s T-shirt was lifted up a little around his hips, because that made Adam think about his solid body. Not at the way the lamp light made shadows run across his face, because that made Adam think about how different this soft atmosphere was in comparison to the harsh, bright lighting in Cabeswater. He couldn’t even look at him reading the book, because that just stirred thoughts about how focused his eyes looked, and all the other emotions his eyes expressed. Ronan’s giveaway was his eyes; they always showed emotions that his scowl tried to cover up.

This really was why Adam should never be allowed to have an idle brain.

So, he made himself focus on his book. Here and there, Ronan would ask questions. Adam would answer, and give him some other task.

It was incomprehensibly comfortable. Adam wasn’t used to other people being with him when he studied. People had always been distracting, clicking pens and shuffling papers and unknowingly nagging at him, being too close while he tried to sort through his thoughts. And this was so different from the Ronan he was usually with; a giant personality who filled whatever room he was in, making lewd remarks in a gelato shop and leading plays on court.

Here, Ronan didn’t bother him. He was distracting in a different way, but he wasn’t loud. He shuffled papers as much as anyone else and he chewed Adam’s precious pencil, but Adam found it soon fading into the atmosphere. Ronan was simply _there_ , with him. Not judging, not ordering, but occupying himself solely in the space at Adam’s side.

The presence was new. But it was warm and grounding.

Adam let himself relax, there on the floor of their room, while Ronan quietly scribbled notes into his journal. Adam truly meant to read over his work and give him tips. But without him noticing, his eyes closed, and he drifted off into sleep.

***

Adam’s eyes slowly opened.

It took him a moment to process where he was and what time it was. Morning sunlight was streaming in through his window, but he wasn’t in his bed. He was on the floor. He saw the books around him and then realized that he must have fallen asleep while studying. He looked around, but Ronan was gone. He sat up to look at his clock and rub the knot that always appeared in his neck after a night spent on top of a textbook.

That was when he noticed it.

There was no knot in his neck. And there was no textbook digging into his cheek. On the floor, where his head had been, was his pillow, taken from his bed.

Adam blinked at it. _Ronan,_ he thought. And then, _fuck._

***

By the time Adam was walking down to the dining hall, he could still feel the echo of where the pillow had been pressed against his face. Without thinking, he gingerly touched his cheek. He hadn’t even known he’d fallen asleep. It wasn’t the first time he’d dozed off while studying, but it was the first time he’d done it when he had _company._ Ronan was there. Studying. With him. He winced a little at the thought of Ronan laying side by side with him, only to look over at some point in the night and realize that Adam had slipped out of consciousness.

Adam might have expected to find a dick drawn on his face when he woke up.What he didn’t expect was a pillow placed carefully under his head or a blanket covering his shoulders.

Adam tried to push the thoughts of Ronan - and how softly he must have touched him not to wake him - out of his mind. He scanned the dining hall, but couldn’t find anyone he knew. Gansey and Blue would be at their book club with Cheng. Noah was taking nature pictures for his art class. Tad was at the gym with Matthew. Declan was out and Ronan was nowhere to be found.

Adam was about to sit down at an empty table by himself, when he caught someone waving at him from across the room. It was Brian and a group of cheerleaders. Brian gestured for him to come over and sit. Adam did.

“Adam Parrish!” Brian said chipperly. “It’s so wonderful to see you. You’ve disappeared since the game.”

“We were starting to think that you hated us because of what happened with Sara,” one of the girls said. Adam pursed his lips, remembering the way he’d chewed the girl out like an overbearing mother.

“We’re not all like her,” said the girl beside her.

“This is Megan, Rachel and Gina,” Brian introduced. “They’ll be leaving us soon for yoga class.”

“Do you know how hard it is to find a workout-specific co-ed yoga class?” Gina complained. “We tried for _ages_ to find one so that Brian could come with but there was nothing!”

“Too many guys were pervs,” Rachel told him.

“A sad truth of our world,” Brian tsked. “Too many men have tarnished the name of the male gender. I was only hoping for a chance to restore our image in the yoga industry and try some decent hip-openers, but alas. I told the girls to go on without me and enjoy themselves.”

“Our knight in shining Nikes,” Megan grinned, clutching him.

Brian leaned into her hug, but his smile was pained. “Meg, you know I don’t wear Nikes. That company is a blatant supporter of sweatshops in Bangladesh.”

She frowned. “Oops. I thought that was Adidas.”

“No, Adidas is a completely different situation. Adidas is known for its-”

“We’re gonna be late!” Gina piped up, glancing up from her phone. “We have to go.” She yanked her friends out of their seats, with a look that definitely said ‘we’re not late yet, but if we stay here to listen to the virtues and vices of sportswear companies, we _will be’._

“See you girls later!” Brian said, while they exchanged obnoxiously European kissy faces. “Don’t come back here with better butts than mine!”

“If I do, will that get me your cute friend’s number?” Megan winked, sending a look Adam’s way. He flushed.

“I will make no promises!” Brian called out to them as they scurried away, out of the dining hall. Turning back to Adam, he said, “Don’t worry, I’m not an enabler.”

“They’re very… close. To you.”

“Oh, yes. It took a while, but the girls have warmed up to me. You know, some people say that they ‘treat me like one of the girls’ but I find that ridiculous. They treat me like Brian. And I am a man. Thus they treat me like a man. Sure, they do use some of the social conventions that are typically shown between girls, but assuming that that means they are somehow making me more feminine is outrageous. I don’t feel emasculated one bit. I’m proud to be a cheerleader!”

“That’s good of you,” Adam said, grabbing a bagel from the tray in front of him.

“Also, you wouldn’t not _believe_ the romantic outcomes that have turned out because of this!” Brian exclaimed. As he used his spoon to punctuate his feelings, Adam became worried that he was going to accidentally catapult his cereal onto some poor bystander’s head.

“I had already predicted that becoming a cheerleader would make some small-minded people doubt my sexuality. This of course has made more men come onto me. And you would _think_ that the idea of me being gay would make women pay _less_ attention to me, but it hasn’t!”

Adam raised his eyebrow.

“Women are more into me than ever! It’s ridiculous! Is this what gay men go through? The attraction that comes with wanting something you can’t have? Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Maybe they just think that you’re more in touch with your feminine side, not gay,” Adam suggested. “You hang out with girls. Maybe that’s what’s attractive.”

“I hope so! It’s just so… so…”

“Ridiculous?”

“Yes!” Brian stirred his cereal slowly. “I should do something about it. I could start a charity. No, a mind-broadening program. An awareness week? I’m very good with Instagram.”

“You’ve showed me.” Adam didn’t really understand the importance of social media, or why twenty pictures of cafes could get attention, but everyone had to have _some_ kind of hobby.

“I just hope it’s good enough. I should make a statement. I’ve got it!” Brian looked up happily. “I’m going to stop dating women!”

He said it like he had won the lottery.

As Adam tried to form _some_ kind of reaction, he saw Brian’s gaze shift slightly to the left. His face paled.

“It’s very important that I, uh… make that known. That I won’t be dating. Right now.”

Adam stared in confusion as Brian suddenly began to start shoveling his cereal into his mouth. “There’s really no time,” he said through a mouth full of mini wheats. “Instagram has popular hours!” His line of sight unfocused from Adam and he jumped a little. “I should get going,” he said casually as he slipped all of his things off the table and into his bag. Including his half-finished bowl of cereal.

Then he ran off.

Gawking, Adam turned around, only to find Ronan Lynch walking up to him. As he took Brian’s seat like nothing had happened, Adam could only think ‘ _well that explains it’._

“What was that all about?” he demanded.

“What?” Ronan asked casually, grabbing a bagel.

“You just made a grown man dump a bowl of cereal into his book bag.”

Ronan pursed his lips. “I don’t think he really counts as _grown._ Ten bucks says that there is a Hello Kitty something in his room.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Well-”

“And you can’t blame me for what just happened. You couldn’t see me. And Brian lives in a dorm full of cheerleaders; I think the months of breathing in nail polish fumes have finally gotten to him.”

“You’re…” Adam avoided the word ridiculous, “a pest.”

Ronan pointed an accusatory bagel towards him. “That’s one way to talk to the guy who just saved you from an endless conversation about…”

Adam sighed. “Gender inequality in the yoga industry.”

“And?”

“How he’s going celibate.”

Ronan scoffed. “I don’t think he needs any help there.”

“You’re so quick to judge him. He’s doing it for a good cause, you know. He always has some kind of reason for his schemes, even if they are weird. I think it’s admirable.”

Ronan’s frown turned into a scowl. “That’s a pretty big crush you’ve got on him, Parrish. Going to follow his Instagram next? That’s like proposing marriage to him.”

Adam’s mouth dropped open. He was torn between laughing at the fact that the accusation had come from the one person he _did_ have a crush on, and worrying about the deeper meaning behind what Ronan had said. Was Ronan homophobic? If he was homophobic, there was a good chance he was straight, and both of these things meant that Adam’s thing for him would die before it even got the chance to see the light of day.

“So what if I did have a crush on him? That’s not a bad thing!” Adam squawked.

“Having a crush on Brian is like the worst possible thing you could do. Like, getting a tramp stamp level of bad decisions.”

“I don’t think you can choose who you have a crush on,” Adam huffed.

Ronan’s eyes were intense. “I know that,” he said in a low voice.

They stared at each other. After a few moments it turned into something resembling a staring contest, a battle of will where neither one of them knew what they were hoping to achieve by winning. But Adam knew by now that this was a game that Ronan played, and he sure as hell wasn’t losing.

“I’m sure his social media is a pile of cafe photos and social justice statements,” Ronan said, not looking away. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing.”

 _I’m not_ , Adam thought. “I don’t follow him,” he said.

“Why not? Think you’ll ruin his celibacy streak if you do?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

That made Ronan blink. “Dude, what the fuck. How do you not have a phone?”

“I just don’t.” Was Ronan really going to make him say why?

“There’s a group chat. Gray posts all of his technical shit there.”

“People tell me in person.” And then, “I really can’t see you being in a group chat.

Ronan rolled his eyes. Then he stood up and made a gesture for Adam to do the same. “Come on,” he said impatiently.

Adam frowned, but he stood up anyway. “Why?”

“We’re getting you a phone.”

“Oh, like hell you are.” He waved Ronan off and began to walk in the opposite direction. There was no way, absolutely no way, that he was going to go to a store and buy an expensive phone that he didn’t need. But he wasn’t going to tell Ronan that he couldn’t afford one either. Even if he got one of the cheap knockoff ones, it would be a chunk of his money that he would never get back. So no. He could live without a phone. He could and he was going to.

He heard Ronan say, “Oh, come off it,” and ignored him. And then he felt Ronan’s hand gripping his arm. He froze.

He expected Ronan to say something, to do something, to let go. But Adam was a bit too preoccupied with the fact that _Ronan was gripping his arm_ and that he probably looked like a deer in the headlights to notice that Ronan was mirroring his stillness. They looked at each other.

“You need a phone,” Ronan said finally.

Adam bit his lip. How was he going to get out of-

“And since I know Gray will agree with me, and I also like giving him headaches, we’re going to use the team card to buy you one.”

Adam blinked. “The team card.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t use the _team card_ to buy _me_ a phone.”

“Sure I can. And we will. Because,” he shifted into a semi-accurate impression of the coach’s voice, “a team that communicates is a team that wins.”

***

Adam quickly learned that Ronan was a pain to shop with. The trip was dragged out through multiple detours where Adam also learned that for a man who had a lot of his own, Ronan possessed no qualms about spending other people’s money.

(“I think Coach would agree that we need this.”

“No, he wouldn’t. What could you possibly need a foot massager for?”

“Sore feet makes poor performance. I’m sure it’s in his ‘how to be a coach’ manual somewhere.”

“Ronan.”

“Fine. We don’t need it. We need _this.”)_

He was also painfully oblivious to the true cost of everything he was looking at. Once they got to the electronic devices section of the store, Adam had to make himself stop looking at the price tags on everything. Every time he saw a tablet costing hundreds of dollars, he winced, unable to stop making lists of other things that could be bought with that money. But Ronan, of course, went straight to the iPhones and picked out the newest model.

“That has got to be the most expensive thing in this aisle,” Adam told him. “This is the team’s money.”

Ronan shrugged. “It has the highest potential to give Gray a headache.”

Adam wanted to give _Ronan_ a headache. “What about equipment? Transportation?”

“That's covered already. We're fine. Probably.”

Ronan shrugged again and marched the phone up to the checkout. Adam knew that there was no point arguing any further.

***

On the walk back from the store, Adam felt the phone in his bag. He didn’t touch it. It didn’t really feel like it was _his_ yet, just something he was carrying. He had the odd feeling that he didn’t even know what to do with a phone, but that was stupid. Objectively, he knew exactly how a phone worked and what he could do with it; he could text the groupchat, he could be called, he could play those little games that Noah enjoyed so much.

In Henrietta, he had felt like the only person in the world without a cellphone.

Now, he felt like the only person who had one in his possession.

He looked at Ronan, who was walking beside him silently, untouched by Adam’s thoughts.

“When did you get your first phone?” he found himself asking.

Ronan glanced at him. “I was twelve or some shit like that. When the first smartphone came out. My dad bought it for me.”

“What would a twelve year old need a phone for?” Adam teased. When he was twelve, the only thing he really had to do with his free time was do homework and toss a ball around.

Ronan’s voice was serious. “Call my mom.”

It sounded ridiculous, coming from his mouth. But it occurred to Adam just how often Ronan was away from home as a child. He spent weeks separated from his father, only to hop on a plane and go who knows where, away from his house. Adam had known about all of these things from articles and sports news, but now, with Ronan standing in front of him, it seemed like that childhood had been some alternate reality. But that past and this present belonged to the same person.

“I thought your mom came with you.”

“Not always.”

“Did you call your dad?”

“He was busy,” Ronan said. “If it was important, maybe. And it was Mom who called.”

Adam nodded, saying nothing.

Neither of them spoke for a while, but then Ronan said, “Do you talk to your parents?”

Adam could feel himself tensing up. “I didn’t have a phone.”

“You do now.”

“Yeah. I do now.”

He clamped his mouth shut, wanting the conversation to end there. Ronan probably resented him for it. Here Adam was, poking and prodding him about his home life, just like every other fan and reporter had always done, but the second the conversation came to him, he backed out. There was just so much to know about Ronan, so much _to_ him. The only things that Adam could say about himself were marred by the ugly truths. His life prior to Monmouth was built on a foundation that he had been drilled never to speak of.

He heard Ronan groan beside him. He followed his line of sight to find Declan in the courtyard with Ashley.

“They’re so disgusting,” Ronan grumbled.

“They’re not that bad. The PDA could be worse.”

“No, I mean-” Ronan groaned again. “You know, he cheats on her constantly.”

“What?” Adam said. He knew Declan was a flirt, but he thought that was more of a celebrity thing.

“At home, he changed girlfriends like every other week, but _this_ is worse. Because she stays around. She _knows_ and she stays around like it’s nothing.”

Adam frowned. “Why the hell does she do that?” He looked back at them. They were the image of a power couple, both looking immaculate and important, like they might simply walk over to a political gala and blend in seamlessly. As Ashley ran her hand through his hair and pulled Declan in close for a passionate kiss, Adam thought that they played off each other, looking even more important when they linked arms. Then, he realized that he had answered his own question.

“She wants to be a publicist one day. He wants to look good in the public. He gives her the attention and she uses it to give him the image he wants. Who better to clean up our messes?”

Adam looked at him. Ronan’s brow was furrowed. “They won’t break up. Not as long as they’re useful to each other. Fucking disgusting.”

“It works for them.”

“Wouldn’t work for me.”

“Never dated a fan?”

“I don’t do casual.”

Adam’s breath froze in his throat. He wanted to see Ronan’s expression but he knew that turning to him and seeing his face would not end well for him. As it was, he tried to remember how he’d been functioning a second ago.

The idea of Ronan being a romantic was overwhelming. Two months ago, he would have scoffed; a month ago, he would have laughed; now, he… he was trying not to picture exactly what the opposite of _casual_ would entail for Ronan. He didn’t let himself think, _what it would entail for the two of them._

“Ronan,” he said, because it was the only thing he could.

“Yeah?” His voice didn’t have an edge.

Adam hadn’t really thought of what he was supposed to say after that. There were many things he could say. There were millions of combinations of words. None of them accurately described what he wanted to say.

He said, “Thanks for the phone.”

Ronan’s expression changed, as unreadable as before, but different. “Gray is getting the bill.”

_That’s not what I meant._

“Yeah. It was fun, though.”

“You looked like you were going to throw up. Or kill me.”

“I think I was.” _‘We should do it again sometime,’_ would make absolutely no sense to say _._

“We should-”

“Adam!” someone screamed.

The two of them turned around.

“Ronan!” It was Noah running down the steps of the athletes dorm. “Where the hell have you two been?”

Adam gestured back to the way they had come. “We were-”

Noah waved his hands. “It doesn’t matter.” He grabbed their wrists and started pulling them towards the building. “You have to come now.”

Ronan yanked his arm out of Noah’s grasp. The look he got in return was frantic. “Dude, what the fuck is wrong?”

Noah bit his lip, eyes wide and upset. For an awful moment, he just stared at them. And then he spoke.

“Blue and Gansey broke up.”

***

The ride up to their floor was excruciating, Ronan and Adam having too many questions and Noah already overwhelmed.

“What the fuck happened?” Ronan demanded.

“I don’t know! Everything was fine and we were hanging out because you guys weren’t here yet and then Gansey started acting all weird. And then he and Blue went to his room and I guess they were talking and I guess they fought. And then Blue stormed out and Gansey didn’t go after her. And I was going to call her but I was with Gansey and he’s not making any sense and - Where were you two?”

“I bought a phone.”

Noah blinked. “Wait, you didn’t have a phone? How did you -”

“Unimportant,” Adam said. “Where is Blue?”

“I don’t know. I think she went home.”

“Where is Gansey?”

“In our room.”

“And everybody else?”

Noah flapped his arms frantically. “I don’t know!”

“Matt’s meeting up with Declan and the cheerleaders,” Ronan said.

“Cheng’s with his friends, probably. Tad is… wherever Tad is.”

“So, it’s just us and them?” Adam asked. Noah’s only response was to grimace. “Great,” he said, running a hand down his face. “We have to talk to them. Ronan, you find Gansey. I’ll talk to Blue. Noah, you’re backup. Text everyone else not to get in the way.”

Noah nodded. “Sounds good. They can’t go through with this.”

“The fucking idiots,” Ronan agreed.

They got off the elevator once they hit the right floor. Adam went down again, leaving the building and marching all the way over to Fox Way. When he rang the doorbell, he didn’t bother with pleasantries; the look on Maura’s face when she answered told Adam that she already knew why he was here.

“What has she said?” he asked as he walked in.

“Nothing. She and Gansey fought, didn’t they?”

Adam nodded. “I need to talk to her.”

“First door on the left.” She pointed upstairs.

When Adam made it to Blue’s room, he was struck with the sudden feeling that he was intruding. What if she was crying? Adam had only cried in front of someone a few times, when he was very young, before quickly learning of the consequences. Since then, the thought of anyone seeing him cry was mortifying. But Blue wasn’t him. And she would be handing herself over to a whole lot more misery if she didn’t change her mind.

He knocked.

A small voice inside told him to enter. Blue was lying on her bed with her feet tucked up against her torso. She wasn’t crying; it looked like she _had_ been, but had stopped before he entered. Adam stood awkwardly in the middle of her bedroom, arms spread, asking the question that he didn’t know how to phrase aloud. _What happened?_

She sat up slowly and patted the mattress beside her. He sat down. Blue was a very tiny person, physically. Usually, however, the enormousness of her personality and her fierceness on court made her seem like one of the biggest people he knew. She was strong and confident and she made it very clear that there would be hell to pay if you messed with her.

She didn’t look like that right now.

She looked like what she was, if you took away the girl Adam knew; a tiny college student who had just fought with the boy she loved.

“I think I should have seen it coming,” Blue whispered.

Adam looked at her, unsure of what to ask. There were a million bits of context that he was missing, but he knew he was standing on thin ice.

“You want a play-by-play,” Blue stated, reading his mind.

“I think that would be a good idea.”

She looked up at him. She had yet to stretch out of the fetal position, her eyes wet and her hair even messier than usual. “He said he wanted to kiss me,” Blue told him.

“He did?”

Blue nodded, and then froze. “Wait, did anyone ever actually explain-”

“Yes.”

She nodded again and let out a shaky laugh. “Alright. News travels at weird speeds around here.”

“Noah pays attention.”

“Noah knows things about everyone even before _they_ do,” she agreed. Blue bit her lip. “I don’t think he saw this coming either.”

Adam winced a little at the hurt in her voice. “I don’t understand. What did he say?”

Blue blinked back tears. “We were sitting around with Noah, hanging out. And then he looked all spacey, and at first I thought it was anxiety thing, but he just told me I was beautiful. And that was okay, that was just Gansey being a sap, except that whatever _mood_ he was in didn’t go away. I don’t even know how to describe it. He was just acting all off.”

Adam nodded. He had known that much from Noah.

Blue took a breath and continued. “So, I asked him what was wrong and he asked me if we could talk. He started telling me how much trouble he’d been having with the no kissing rule. And I said that I’d been having trouble with it too.”

“So, you… talked it over,” Adam said. “Then, why-”

“I don’t know!” Blue cried, dropping her head onto her knees. “I don’t know what happened! One minute, we were having a conversation about how difficult it was not to kiss, and then the next minute I was yelling at him and he was getting _very_ defensive. He said he didn’t understand why I had a rule in the first place. Why did I need a rule? Was it worth it? Did I think that he was just going to kiss me and leave? And then I did the worst possible thing you can do! I just left! I walked out!”

“But you never _said_ you broke up?” Adam asked. “So, you’re not _really_ broken up.”

“Oh, I feel like we’re pretty broken up.”

“You can’t just leave it like this. You have to talk. You have to tell him how you feel.”

Blue scoffed. “Yeah, because that’s done me a whole lot of good.”

“It’s not too late,” Adam told her. “You can fix this.”

She looked up at him. “He’s right,” Blue said. “This is my fault. The rule is stupid. I _know_ the rule is stupid. I should just change my mind and let him kiss me. I want to kiss him. Literally _everybody else_ kisses each other when they want to! Why should we be different?”

She stood up. “I’m walking back over. I’m telling him this.”

She started to walk away, but Adam grabbed her arm. “Blue, stop,” he told her. “This is your rule. Gansey told me that this was the exact reason that you made the rule in the first place. To see if he’d stick around when it got rough.”

Blue sighed. “I _know_ , but-”

“If you kiss him, you can’t undo it. Are you ready for that?” He saw his words hit home with her and he knew that he was saying the right thing. Adam turned her towards him and forced eye contact. “Blue, if you can look me in the eye and tell me that you _really_ want to give up on this promise, I will let you go.”

“I…” She bit her lip. “I want to kiss him.” The words sounded like defeat.

He dropped his arms, but she didn’t move.

“I want to kiss him,” she said again. “But I don’t want to give up on this rule. I promised my family. It’s… it’s a part of me.”

He nodded in understanding. “You shouldn’t have to give up something that makes you you.” He had almost done the same thing when he’d been told to give up Exy for a job. He knew now just how big of a mistake that would have been.

Blue’s confidence was slowly returning to her, but there was still a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. She shifted slightly from foot to foot, her thumb running over the back of her other hand. She looked at Adam, her expression open and vulnerable.

“Adam,” she said. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“You won’t,” Adam told her. “He’s Gansey. He’s just upset and confused, but he’ll do the right thing. If he really loves you, of course he’ll stick by the rule.”

Blue grinned. “Yeah. You’re right.” She pulled him into a tight hug. “Thanks, Adam.”

Then she let go and ran off.

***

Adam took his time on the walk back, feeling pleased with himself. It could have gone a lot worse. But Adam knew how Blue and Gansey felt about each other - anyone who was in the same room as them for more than ten seconds knew - and he knew that they were going to figure this out. The trick was simply to get them to talk it over before they felt it was too late.

Adam smiled. It was going to be okay.

He walked down the path that lead across the lawn to the dorm and saw Ronan walking towards him from that direction.

“They went to Cabeswater,” he told Adam before he could even ask. Ronan looked pretty pleased as well.

“When?”

“About fifteen minutes ago. When Gansey got Blue’s text I almost thought he would jump out the window to get there faster.”

Adam laughed, the smile still plastered on his face. “They’re going to be okay.”

Ronan nodded. “The two of them are idiots. You should have seen him, Adam. Once he stopped faceplanting onto his pillow, he started ranting about how they should just get married so that they could kiss. He looked like a fucking teenager after a pregnancy scare. I had to take his phone so that he would stop looking at rings.”

Adam shook his head in amusement. “They really wouldn’t be able to last a day without each other. They’d be miserable.”

Ronan made a concurring expression. “ _We’d_ be fucking miserable too. They’d make sure of it.”

Adam laughed. “So, you got him to agree, then? To suck it up and accept the rule.”

Ronan looked at him. “No,” he said. “I told him that he shouldn’t be in a relationship that makes him unhappy. The rule thing made him feel shitty.”

He blinked. “What did you tell him that for?!”

“Because he was unhappy! The guilt wasn’t good for his anxiety! That’s what he told us earlier!”

“No. He told us that he was having trouble. He said he needed help to adjust and accept the rule!”

“The rule is stupid!”

“Not to Blue!”

“Well, what the fuck did you-” He froze, mid-yell. Ronan whipped out his phone from his pocket. “Oh, god,” he said, and thrust the phone to Adam, showing him the screen.

It was a text from Noah.

 **Noah:** _Guys, it’s done._

 **Noah:** _They’re over._

Adam Parrish was there when they told Gansey to talk to Blue.

Adam Parrish was the one who told Blue what to say to Gansey.

Adam Parrish had just successfully broken two of his best friends up.  


**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr about these nerds! I'm thelynchbros over there! Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
